Arms of an Angel
by Kaitsa
Summary: When childhood best friends Jacob and Bella run into each other after losing touch for years, they decide to become roommates. Will they be able bring back the good and overcome the bad from their past? Bella x Jacob, all human, rated M for future lemons and past abuse.
1. Chapter 1 Apartment

**Story: Arms of an Angel**

**Summary: **

When childhood best friends Jacob and Bella run into each other after losing touch for years, they decide to become roommates. Will they be able bring back the good and overcome the bad from their past?

BellaxJacob, all human, rated M for future lemons.

**AN: I don't own anything. I'm posting this story live as I write it, please let me know your views, so I can take your feedback into account! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Apartment<strong>

Jacob POV

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><p>I arrive at the building ten minutes early, expecting to have difficulty finding a parking spot, but I am pleasantly surprised by the surroundings. The building is right outside the city, in a relatively calm and green neighborhood and there's a parking lot right across the street. This quiet location is one of the reasons for the high renting price. The new soccer team I transferred to doesn't pay as much as my last one yet, since I spent most of last year being injured, but I still plan on recovering soon, so I'll be able to afford a place like this when I play more games. I just hope the apartment looks just as nice as the online pictures.<p>

Even though I'm early, I decide to go ahead and ring the bell, just in case the agent is there already.

"Yes?" a female voice asks through the intercom.

"This is Jacob Black. I have an appointment at five."

"Come on up," she says and the door buzzes.

The elevator brings me to the fourth floor and the agent waits in the doorway.

"Good afternoon," she greets me with a firm handshake, "I'm just finishing the tour for the previous client, but why don't you have a look around and I'll be with you soon?"

I nod and follow her into the apartment, but I stop dead in my tracks when I recognize this other client.

I must have been staring at her, baffled by the ways in which she changed and hasn't changed at the same time, because she starts grinning and says, "what's the matter, don't remember me, Jacob?"

"Bella," I breathe, "of course I … I mean, wow, look at you!"

"I know," she chuckles, "I don't look quite as creepy as I did in high school, do I?"

I get a little uncomfortable at her calling herself a creep, even though she's right of course. Back in high school, my childhood neighbor and best friend turned into a suicidal gothic version of herself, which was quite creepy to be honest.

"You look great," I all I manage to say.

"Thanks," she grins, and I can almost swear she's blushing, "so do you. And your career, wow, congrats. I heard about your transfer, are you happy about it?"

I notice the agent becoming impatient and I realize we've been rudely ignoring her.

"We should hang out and catch up," I suggest, "how about a coffee, after my tour here?"

"I'd like to," she says, still smiling. It's been ages since I've seen her smile. Somewhere during high school, her smile had vanished along with our friendship. She continues, "but I came with the bus and I don't know my way around here."

"I can give you a ride, I'm parked right across the street."

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><p>Fifteen minutes later, we're sitting side by side in my car. Our easy introduction is replaced by an awkward silence, as I drive through this still unknown city, looking for a nice place to stop and have a drink.<p>

"This is weird," she states.

"What is?" I ask confused.

"Us pretending to be friends, after everything that happened."

I glance over at her, wondering if she'd rather cancel the coffee.

"I wasn't pretending," I explain, "I know we haven't been close in a long time, but I still cherish the friendship we used to have before… Besides, I've changed a lot since then, and I really would like to catch up."

A small smile plays on her lips again. "Fair enough. In that case, I'm rather hungry so how about early dinner instead?"

"Sounds good. I know a restaurant near the station. It's a few blocks from here, but I could give you a ride home afterwards."

"That's okay, I can take the train, I don't live in this city yet."

"Me neither, but I hope to move soon. I hate the two hour drive to every soccer practice. We might have to fight for that apartment though, it looked really nice." I try to tease her.

"It's all yours," she says, "I can't afford it. It's a shame, it looked wonderful. I've seen so many places in this city and this is the first that I really liked, but they should have been more clear about the actual renting price online. I wouldn't have bothered."

"You're right. It's rather high. I actually can't afford it either, with my pay check at this moment. But I could use some of my savings and hope to play again soon."

"I thought you soccer players are all filthy rich," she mocks.

"I'm no Messi," I chuckle, "and this isn't Premier League, but I get by, especially if I get to play. It's just been a bad year for me with the injury."

"I know all about sports injuries," she nods.

"How so?"

"I'm a kinesiology student now, last year and specialized in sports medicine."

"Really? That's awesome. I started studying physiology too, a few years ago, but I couldn't combine it with my soccer, so I dropped out."

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><p>After finding this common subject to talk about, the conversation flows easily. We enter the restaurant, place our order and enjoy the food, all the while talking about student life, and my few years as a soccer star, before I got injured.<p>

I'm amazed at grown up she looks. She was always a bit of a tomboy, trying to hide the fact that she was a girl, but now… Even though she's still wearing jeans, sneakers and a plain shirt, she's definitely a woman. A beautiful woman. I can't keep my eyes off of her. As if I'm trying to figure out if she's real. She still has freckles on her cheekbones, her hair still falls before her eyes the way it used to, and her cheek still dimples when she smiles. I think I forgot how crazy I used to be about her. I put all those memories away when she changed. But now, it all comes back.

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><p><em>Twelve years ago<em>

Three light taps on my window makes me drop the game I'm playing and rush over to open the curtains and window for her.

She climbs in expertly and grins when she pulls two bars of chocolate from under her wide shirt. This means she's staying over. She always brings candy when she plans on spending the night, even though my mother welcomes her with open arms and keeps her well fed.

My parents both know she sneaks in regularly, and they asked her to stop climbing our tree, but she insists that she doesn't want to bother anyone by ringing the doorbell. I know that she really just doesn't want to be seen by her father. Our front door is in his line of view, and the tree next to my window isn't.

She's quite a bit younger than her brother, and both her brother and father are overly protective over her. She's never been allowed to stay over, and she definitely wouldn't be allowed now it's become harder every day to hide that she's hit puberty.

I try not to stare at her small breasts, only just visible through her wide shirt, and focus on the chocolate instead, as she settles down on my bed.

I once asked her, begged her almost, if she would be my girlfriend, but she wanted none of it. "I'm not a girl," she stated stubbornly, and that was that. We never discussed it anymore, even though we both knew and accepted that I was very much in love with her.

I smirk when I take the dark chocolate from her and ask "what did you tell them this time?"

"Science project at Mary's house."

"There's no bag, so you're going back later?"

She shrugs while stuffing her mouth with white chocolate. "Dunno, we'll see."

My mother must have heard her enter and she walks into my room without knocking carrying a plate of biscuits. "Hello Bella. Are you staying for dinner later?"

"Yes, ma'am, if you don't mind?" Bella answers.

My mother smiles "you're always welcome here" and steps out, only to walk back moments later with covers and a pillow for my couch. Bella continues talking but I'm distracted by the look my mother gives her.

She seems to be focusing on the blankets, but her eyes are on Bella's arms. There are several bruises visible. Bella is usually covered in bruises, being a tomboy who likes to play rough on the playground with the boys. I know my mother disapproves of Bella's wild behavior and tree climbing, but in her eyes I see more than worry. She actually looks like she's about to cry.

Later that evening, I forget all about my mom's weird behavior, and after the chocolate and biscuits are finished, Bella and I start playing some games while bantering.

"And Black loses again, loohoo-seeheer," she chants, making an "L" on her forehead with her hand.

"Only because I let you win, Swan, I know what a sore loser you are and my room doesn't want to deal with your tantrums anymore."

She playfully nudges me, "I told you that was an accident, and you never cared for that action figure anyway. You were only pouting because you lost to a girl. Again."

"Oh, so now you are girl, are you?"

"Shut up," she laughs, which means I made a good point.

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><p>Thinking back on this memory now, and knowing what is to come in the next years, I wonder if maybe my mother knew more than I did back then. About those bruises. If perhaps she knew everything, or at least suspected the things I still don't know for sure to this date. And probably never will know.<p>

Bella and I keep bringing back childhood stories, carefully avoiding the awkward years and only focusing on the good times we had. Which is more than enough to fill an entire evening.

From time to time, we just sit and smile at each other. It's clear to me that she cherishes these memories with fondness as well. And I wonder if it's clear to her how I feel that same spark again. How I could easily fall for her, all over again, just like that. After just one dinner. She's always had that strange power over me, even without trying.

As time moves on too quickly, the idea of having her step on that train home, and not seeing her again, becomes unbearable to me. I know if we agree to keep in touch, nothing will ever come of it. Life just always gets in the way.

An then suddenly, it hits me.

"We should both get that apartment."

"What?" he eyes widen and she leans back.

"Think about it. You're the only one I know in this city, and if we split the rent, we can both afford it. It's definitely big enough for both of us."

She waits a few seconds, and I know she's considering it.

"But we really don't know each other."

"I'm not that complex and my mother trained me well to not be a pig," I grin. "Come on, it's not as if we'd be buying it. We can move out at any time. What have we got to lose?"

"Hmm," she hums, "it was a very nice place… good location, close to the university."

My smile widens. "Exactly. So what do you say Swan? Be my roommate?"

"Sure, Black, let's give it a try."

And just like that, Bella Swan is back in my life, and everything is about to change.

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><p><strong>AN: Usually I finish an entire story, before I start posting it. But now I decided to try something else. I just came up with the idea for this story today and decided to throw it online now it's still fresh. I haven't written anything past this point. I have several ideas, but I like some feedback before I continue. So what do think? <strong>


	2. Chapter 2 Safe Haven

**AN: This chapter is dedicated to the story's first reviewer: Sindhura! I'm posting this story as I write it, so please give me your feedback, any kind of feedback is welcome! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Safe haven<strong>

**Bella POV**

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><p>"Where's the rest of your stuff?" Jacob asks.<p>

I blush and wonder what to tell him, how to tell him that this is it, there is no rest.

Shall I make up a story or tell him a different version of the truth?

I suppose, living with him, I will ask myself that same question many times to come. Back when we were neighbors and very close, it was easy to keep my secrets from him, because I simply left them at home, but now he will be _in_ my home.

I decide to make a joke about students not owning as much crap as rich soccer players, although even for a poor student my possessions are pathetic.

He frowns, but then shrugs and continues unpacking his own stuff, while I retreat into my empty room and start changing.

He probably wonders how I ever intend to afford my share of the rent. But that will be another well kept secret.

Maybe I should just come clean about everything, right on day one, when I still have nothing to lose.

I could tell him about how my parents really don't pay for my room, because I cut them off completely after finally realizing their abuse wasn't normal. How I paid my way through college by selling my body, the same way I was taught when I was just a kid. How this 'bad habit' got me kicked out by social services, so I had to look for a place of my own, without any possessions. And how I plan to pay for this apartment by that same bad habit.

Starting this evening, on a date with Peter, a regular client.

In the weeks since Jacob and me ran into each other, I thought about having this conversation with him and I saw two possible outcomes. Either he would be so shocked that he would kick me out and then I'd be back where I was a few weeks ago. I wouldn't get too attached to him, so I wouldn't be too hurt.

Or, the other less likely option, he would take pity in me, and accept the whole story, allowing me to live with him.

Both options seem to have a big advantage compared to all the secrets I force myself to hide. But the one thing that keeps me quiet, is knowing that either option would destroy the image he had of me in his head. The image he clearly still has, even after we drifted apart in high school.

Maybe I'm not too attached to him yet, but I definitely need him to see me as the Bella I once was. The young and cheerful girl, that still was innocent, simply because she had no clue that the stuff going on at home wasn't normal. I long to be that girl again, with a desperate ache deep inside. But most of the time, I don't even remember who she is.

Until I ran into him again that is. In his eyes, I saw the reflection of the cute and funny Bella Swan, the girl I thought I lost.

No, Jacob can never ever find out about my secrets, I'll have to be careful and keep him at distance. Just like I did when we were kids. I held him near, as my one and only safe haven, but never too close. He was never to see into my black soul and I'd never take away that image he had of me.

When I'm finished putting on my make up, I grab my coat and leave my room, to find Jacob standing in the kitchen stirring a large cooking pot.

"I hope you like spaghetti," he starts, "I was too hungry to…" He stops when he sees that I'm dressed to leave and then simply says, "oh."

"I'm sorry," I mutter, "I should have told you…"

"No no," he quickly recovers, "you don't have to do that. I shouldn't have assumed. I mean, I know you're a student and we talked about student life. Go on and have fun."

I know what it looks like. I'm wearing a red dress and high heels, he probably thinks I'm about to go clubbing, and since I can't tell him the truth, I simply mumble "thank you," and pull the door closed behind me. The disappointed look on his face stays with me, until I reach the hotel.

I wait in the lobby in my usual spot, and order a glass of water. Perhaps something stronger would work better for me now, but I have grown to hate alcohol a long time ago.

Peter walks over to me confidently and leans in for a soft kiss on my cheek. The smell of his aftershave makes me feel at ease and feel sick at the same time.

Peter is a successful sports manager I met when he was giving some lectures in one of my classes. I caught his eye, being a promising sports medicine student, but when he invited me after class to discuss my paper about soccer injuries, I quickly noticed it wasn't my physiology talent he was interested in.

He seemed like a gentler version of my usual clients, rich and confident, but ignored by their petty wives. He saw some potential in me, and I saw options as well, knowing how powerful he is, so that's how we came to have our agreement.

"I'm glad you like my present," he says, motioning at the short dress. By the look in his eyes I see that he's already imagining taking it off, but he knows I won't allow that.

He's one of the few clients who actually accepts that I won't be touched, which explains why he's a regular, when most others decide to book real whores instead.

Not Peter.

Peter believes he's in love with me, and believes he's so special that one day, I'll give him all of me.

In the mean time, he patiently treats me well and pays more than I ask.

He leaves some money for my drink on the table, and leads me to the elevator, carefully placing a warm hand on my back. We close the hotel room door behind us and he takes my hands, slowly walking backwards to the bed. His reassuring smile is meant to put my mind at ease, but I just want to get this over with.

I'm not in the mood for his role plays, in which he pretends to seduce me. So I gently push him back on the bed and unbutton his jeans. He understands and lays down after switching off the light.

We both prefer the dark: him so he can imagine me naked on top of him, and me because it makes it easier to escape this cold hotel room and the endlessness that I fear.

"Mmm, I'd kill for those blow jobs of yours," he groans, when I free him from his boxers.

"Shhh," I hush him, "just close your eyes and enjoy."

I try to sound seductive, but I really just need him to shut up so I can retreat into my own little world. I allow the memories to seep from my veins, to make me empty and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

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><p>"<em>Bella, get back here," his dark voice bellowed. <em>

_I swear these days, my brother was becoming worse of a threat than my father was, more of a monster. I guess I could try and understand, knowing that he was raised by someone like my father, but there is no sympathy left for him. Just fear. _

_Back when I was younger, I dreamed of growing up to be a strong warrior, and my brother Edward and me would combine forces to defeat our father. But somewhere along the way, I lost Edward as my ally and he chose the dark side. These days I no longer dream of ever being strong enough to fight them both and escape._

_Permanently escape that is. _

_I hide under my covers and wish that he is too drunk to notice me in here, but my prays are in vain. _

_With force, Edward pulls my blanket away from my shaking body and grabs me by the hair. I scramble on my feet to follow him, trying to free myself from his grip, but he pulls me closer against his iron strong body. The alcohol stench nearly makes me faint and I resume my prays that he's too drunk to really harm me. _

_Roughly he turns me around and pushes me down over the small desk, his hips against my butt keeping me in place. He leans down, his heavy weight pushing on me, and reaches around my arms to the front of my chest. His strong fingers squeeze my developing breasts painfully and I can't help but gasp. _

"_Please Edward," I beg him, but I know better than to count on his mercy. _

_With a sickening breath, he whispers in my ear, "why are you trying to hide your boobs in these wide T-shirts, did you think we wouldn't notice them grow?"_

_I panic and imagine the clothes they might force me to wear, so I stutter, "I… I just don't want anybody else to look at me, I belong only to you and dad."_

_Edward smirks, "that's right." _

_He stands up to open his belt and in the second he stumbles backwards in his dizzy state, I push myself up from the desk and bolt towards my open window. I hear him swear behind me, but before Edward gets a chance to move, I've already crossed the line between our garden and Jacob's. _

_I climb their tree expertly and tap his bedroom window three times. _

_My racing heart calms down, knowing my safe haven is near. I realize that I'll have to pay for this escape later, but I won't worry about that now. _

_Right now, I'll tell Jacob with a grin that I lied about a science project, and I'll laugh and joke until my whole world exists of Jacob only. _

_Of his beautiful smile and his endless adoration for me._

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><p>I allow these thoughts to take me away, until I'm walking back home again, with bitter shame in my heart and sweet money in my pocket.<p>

_Home_.

It's weird to already think of the apartment as home, after just one day. Weird in a scary way.

In the past weeks, I've grown comfortable with the idea of living here, with him, but I never thought it would feel this real. It already feels more like home than the studio I got from social services. And I'm not sure I like it.

What's even more scary is this small voice inside my head during the walk that says, "I wonder if he's still awake," and the way my heart speeds up just a tiny bit when I look up to the building and see there's still light behind our window.

He was watching TV but gets up when I enter.

"How did it go, had a good time?" his friendly voice asks.

I wince.

I hadn't expected him to ask about my evening. Clearly I should prepare my lies a little better.

When I just stand there, without answering, he probably decides he had no right to ask me this question and continues in a casual tone, "there's some spaghetti left in the microwave, in case, you know, if you're hungry, or maybe for tomorrow…"

"Thanks, I'm starving," I reply, feeling guilty for making him uncomfortable.

I gather all my courage, and ignore how scared the warmth in my chest makes me, before I ask, "join me?"

He grins cheerfully and starts heating up the spaghetti, while grabbing a plate and a soda for me. It's like he has no trouble adjusting to my presence at all.

And when I finish the tasteful food, while he talks about the progress he made with his injury and the practical jokes his teammates pulled on each other, I find myself adjusting easily as well.

This could work.

If only I could stop being so terrified of feeling alive again.

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><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? Interesting or boring? <strong>


	3. Chapter 3 Forgiveness

**Chapter 3: Forgiveness**

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><p>Just like when we were kids, she is still a mystery to me. I just can't figure out what part of the Bella Swan I knew is still inside.<p>

Some moments, we laugh and joke the way we used to. She teases me about silly habits I still keep, like always putting the volume of my radio on an even number. Or she calls me a mommy's boy when I admit that I never bothered to cook before. Up till last year, my mom stuffed my freezer with food that she already prepared, so I never learned. I try to act insulted, but usually we just end up laughing together at my inability to do chores.

On days like that, I feel like I'm sharing my home with my best friend, and it's the greatest feeling.

But then all of the sudden, an invisible switch is turned, and she's a complete stranger again. It still catches me by surprise, even though the proof of her change is there.

The Bella I knew would never wear a dress, or high heels. And she definitely wouldn't come home smelling of aftershave.

That first time she went out, I was naive enough to believe she was having a drink with friends or joining a party. But when she returned, I quickly noticed that her hair was wet. She was freshly showered and still had a masculine smell on her. She didn't have to explain.

Since then I tried to ignore the way it made me feel. What did I expect? That she would fall for me, just because I'm silly enough to fall for her again?

She never did even back when we were younger.

No, she never fell for me, and I don't expect her to now. But back then, she wasn't interested in other boys either.

In fact, she hated them. All of them.

She often mentioned I was the only boy in the whole world that she didn't hate. Things like that comforted me. Even when it made me wonder if those high school kids calling her a dyke were right all along.

But now, that definitely changed.

I like to believe the only reason I'm upset is because she won't talk to me about it. Whoever her boyfriend is, she never talks about him. While I tell her all those stupid details about my life and my new soccer team, or the embarrassing fan mail I receive.

I try to tell myself that there is nothing else to it, but that's bullshit of course. Even if she would be honest about it, I'd still be upset.

I hate to admit it but I'm simply jealous.

Somewhere along the way, man-hater Bella Swan turned into a woman, a beautiful and straight woman, and I missed it.

I know it's entirely my own fault. Our friendship didn't just vanish into thin air, we both did a pretty good job at killing it, and whatever happened to Bella after high school, I missed it because I wanted to miss it.

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><p><em>Sixteen years old<em>

"_Such a shame the PE classes are separated," Chris says, pointing at Rebecca and her friends, who are leaving the girls locker room and making their way towards us. The girls just had swimming class, so they are all occupied styling their wet hair. The boys finished basketball class a few minutes ago and most of us are already waiting in the school yard for our next class. _

"_Even if PE was a mixed course, we still wouldn't share a locker room with them," Tom responds, rolling his eyes. _

"_I know," Chris replies, "but I wouldn't mind seeing Rebecca in her bathing suit either."_

"_Hey, watch it," Kevin says while nudging Chris, "that's my girlfriend you're talking about."_

_To prove his point, he crosses the last distance between himself and the girl and starts kissing her deeply right in front of us. I avert my eyes while some boys make whistling noises. _

"_Hey dyke," Steven suddenly shouts. I don't have to look up to know who he's yelling at and I sigh. _

_Bella just steps out of the girls locker room, her dyed hair still dry and her heavy black make up still in place. I know she always makes up excuses to skip PE so that nobody sees her many bruises. _

_She flips Steven off and walks past us. I feel uncomfortable and I wish they would just leave her alone, but I don't have the guts to stop them. _

_He's not finished though. "Did you enjoy ogling the girls in the showers? I bet you're real wet now. Does your pussy have purple hair too?"_

_Bella shouts something back at him, but the sound is drowned out by the roar of laughter that follows Kevin last remark. _

_I pretend to like the joke, but suddenly stop when I see Bella stare straight at me. My face falls, but again, I don't dare to speak up and she turns around and walks away. _

_Later that evening when I'm walking home after school, I speed up to catch up with her but she ignores me._

"_Bella, please, I'm sorry."_

"_Leave me alone," she grumbles, without looking up at me or slowing down._

_I try to grab her arm, but she pulls free easily._

"_You shouldn't be mad at me," I mutter angrily, "I wasn't the one shouting."_

"_Sure, Jacob," she says in an exasperated tone, "tell that to the mirror later."_

_She speeds up so that there's some distance between us now._

"_Hey," I shout madly, "it's not my fault everybody calls you a freak. Look at you, you _are_ a freak."_

_She turns around and if glares could kill, I'd be dead now. I stop in my tracks and wait for her to respond._

"_Shut up, Jacob. If you wanna play with your new stupid jock friends and their bimbo girlfriends, then go ahead. Be an empty headed dick as well. But don't go chasing me like a coward when nobody's watching and pretend you care, because I'm better off without you."_

"_You know I…" I start, but she won't let me finish. _

"_Just leave me the fuck alone," she practically screams and then turns around to run home. _

_My shoulders sag and I know that her scarce visits to my bedroom will be completely over now. I have totally blew it this time. _

_And the worst part is that I actually feel relieved about it. I don't know what has gotten into Bella this year, but I sometimes don't recognize her anymore. She's no longer funny, she's always either tired or angry, and mostly both. I know her dad and brother don't treat her too well, but she's not a very nice person either these days. Her mood swings are pretty annoying and maybe I am better off without her too._

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><p>I've thought a lot about those last words in the years to follow. And I always bring them in relation to what happened just a few weeks later.<p>

One morning she didn't show up for class, and the next week, our teacher announced that Bella nearly succeeded in a suicide attempt and would be spending the rest of the school year in a recovery place. Some guys muttered that she would fit well in a nuthouse, but it wasn't funny anymore.

And when she returned the next year, nobody teased her about it, we all just ignored her. Including me.

Over time, I learned to let go of her in my mind. I finally stopped wondering what went wrong.

But now she's back, all the questions return as well, full force.

How could I be such a douchebag to the girl I loved above all else? Wasn't it clear to me that she was suffering? Why didn't I stand by her? Did I want to belong to those guys so badly that I wanted to betray her like that? And how selfish was I to actually feel _relieved_ when she pushed me away for good?

I meant to apologize to her as soon as I ran into her, the way I should have ages ago. But somehow, I still don't find the guts to own up to my mistakes, just because I know she'll hate the conversation. It doesn't make the actual words any less needed, so I tell myself I'm waiting for the right time.

But it never seems to happen. Either she's in a distant mood, and then I don't want to open up to her. Or she's in a good mood, and the atmosphere feels so nice between us that I don't want to ruin it by talking about complex matters.

So the days and the weeks move on and my guilt lingers in the back of my mind.

We find a comfortable rhythm together and she slowly feels like my friend again. Every morning she wakes up first because her classes start at 8. She has breakfast alone, but makes coffee for the both of us. I have difficulties getting out of bed, so I keep procrastinating, until I only have time left for a quick shower and a cup of coffee. There's cardio training all morning, lunch at the club, and then a massage and individual training until three.

By the time I get back home, she's already studying at the desk in our living room.

We take turns in cooking dinner. When we're both home, we eat together and talk about our day. When she's going out, I leave her portion in the microwave.

Whoever her boyfriend is, either he is too cheap to buy her food, or he is a master at making her hungry, because she eats like a wolf when she returns late. Apart from his inability to keep her well fed, I also doubt his ability to make her happy, because whenever she returns, her mood is so foul I make sure to stay far away.

But I won't ask her about it, because I know a part of my doubt is simply caused by jealousy.

Tonight, she's staying in and it was my turn to cook. I have become a better chef, under her guidance, and I must say that the stew I prepared tastes really well.

We sit and talk at the kitchen table long after the food is finished. It's a Friday so she's in no rush to clean up the dishes and start studying, and apparently she's not going out either.

When the conversation slows down into a comfortable silence, something catches my eye.

Her arms are relaxed on the table, with her sleeve moved back just enough to show the pale skin of her scars. Without thinking I reach over and take her hand in mine.

She's surprised, but she doesn't recoil, which surprises me in return. I gently place her hand in mine, her palm facing me, and with my fingertips, I softly trace her wrist up to the scars.

When she suddenly realizes what I'm doing, she gasps and wants to pull back, but I hold her hand tight and keep it in place.

I glance into her wide eyes and she stares right back at me. The fear is obvious, it's almost terror, but we stay motionless until her arm relaxes and she sighs.

We both look down at her hand again when I caress the scars and soothe her skin as if I'm trying to erase that part of her past.

"What happened, Bella, back in high school?" I ask in a soft voice.

"You know what happened," she responds confused, "I cut my wrists and ended up for three months in a mental institute."

"I don't mean that. I mean, what happened to us? Why did we stop being friends? I think about that a lot."

"I'm sorry," she mutters, looking away.

"No. I'm the one who should feel sorry. I was such an idiot back then. I can't believe I joined those stupid jocks and made fun of you."

Bella shrugged but I can tell that she's still hurt by it. I squeeze her hand and whisper "I'm sorry."

She looks up at me and shakes her head. "Don't. You were right, I _was_ a freak. I think I actually tried to be a freak, just so everybody would leave me alone."

"But I shouldn't have left you alone. I was your best friend."

"I get it. I was mean, I pushed you away."

"Yes, and I let you. I should have stayed with you. Maybe this wouldn't have happened."

She shakes her head and suddenly pulls her arm away, hiding her scar underneath her sleeve.

I want to reach over and take it back, but I don't have the guts. I know she'll reject my touch and just like I did back then, I will allow her to reject me.

"You're wrong, Jacob. This," she looks at her wrist, "has got nothing to do with you. And no matter what you could have said or done, it wouldn't have changed a thing, back then. I would have dragged you down with me. That's why I needed to push you away."

"I would have gone down with you gladly," I whisper. "Didn't you know how much I loved you?"

To my horror I notice two tears escape her eyes when she nods.

"That's exactly why you needed to stay away. I would have destroyed you, Jacob. There's something bad, something evil inside me."

"Bella…"

I lean in to brush the tears from her cheeks, but she withdraws as if my fingers burn her.

Furiously, she rubs her eyes, to wipe away the new tears that want to fall, and she adds in a thick voice without looking at me, "I never blamed you for anything, I still don't. I understood, even back then, why you acted the way you did. You had been nice to me for years and I never gave anything back. You just finally realized in high school, even though you cared for me, which I don't doubt, that you had more in common with them than with me. So you choose a different path. It's completely understandable, and if you want my forgiveness, then here it is, I never blamed you, and you couldn't have changed certain things, even if you wanted to."

She stands up and starts walking towards her bedroom to disappear on me again.

"Wait, Bella, I didn't look for forgiveness. I just want to know you. I want to know what happened, who this new Bella is."

She doesn't look back though and closes her door behind her.

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><p><strong>AN: How do you feel about what happened when they were 16? Anyone to blame or both understandable? Share your thoughts... <strong>


	4. Chapter 4 Distraction

**Chapter 4: Distraction**

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><p>As soon as I'm inside the sanctuary of my room, I drop down on the floor and cry.<p>

First because his last words hurt me in a way I didn't expect.

_I want to know who this new Bella is_.

Here I was, believing that I was still the fun and sweet Bella he knew when we were kids, when clearly he noticed the change and probably doesn't like what he sees. Who would? I'm a complete mess.

As the minutes go by, I'm hit by a new kind of panic.

I know Jacob is on the other side of the door, feeling hurt and vulnerable because he finally took the courage to apologize and I cut him off. I'm used to cutting people off, I have done so with every single person in my life, including him back then, but this time it feels different. It's not just guilt, but there's a pain deep inside my chest. As if he's already too close to ever let go without being destroyed.

I need to be more careful.

One day he'll find a girl and move on, and I'll be the same mess I've always been. If that ever happens, if I allow someone to leave me without pushing them away first, I'll be broken down beyond repair.

He's definitely too close.

I also realize I nearly opened up to him. He felt guilty about what happened in my past. If only he knew what my dad and Edward did to me, he'd understand that the small damage he did by calling me a freak was nothing compared to what they did. Especially because I realized, even back then, that Jacob really did love me.

So I nearly told him. One of my best kept secrets. And I fear, as soon as one secret is out, more will surely follow.

The walls are starting to move and slowly my room becomes smaller.

He's too close.

I need to get out.

Out of this apartment, and away from him. I need more distance, need to make sure I'm the one to push him away before he gets a chance to destroy me. I won't survive that.

In a feverish rush, I throw on "working" clothes, clean up my face, and leave the apartment. I can't help but notice the way his eyes go over my outfit when I'm passing by and the hurt I see in them. But I can't dwell on that now.

Caring too much about his feelings will only drag me down deeper. I need to get out.

I need some distraction, some beautiful release, some control.

So I walk straight to a pub and scan the place for possible targets.

I'm lucky tonight. On one of the tables, a group of thirty something men are drinking and laughing.

They are all suited up, so they came here straight after work, to unwind on a Friday night.

Perfect.

I take a deep breath, straighten my hair, and walk over to their table.

"Excuse me, boys," I say in my sweetest voice, "I kinda need a favor from you."

I try to act as nervous and innocent as possible. Already I have their complete attention.

On moments like this, I am thankful for my pretty face, instead of cursing it.

"You see, I'm a physiology student, and I could use some practice and feedback for my massaging technique. I've asked my friends, but their girlfriends are all too jealous and they won't allow me to touch them. Besides," I add in a softer tone, "they're all pretty ugly, and if I'm gonna be massaging someone for free, I'd rather they be handsome men such as yourself."

They all look a bit surprised, wondering if this could be real, a beautiful girl offering to massage them for free. They glance around the table to check the response of their friends, when suddenly one of them says, "you're single, Ben, go for it."

All turn towards a shy-looking guy who avoids eye-contact and starts to blush. Immediately another amused voice joins in, "yeah, Ben, help the pretty girl out."

"I don't know," he mutters.

I stare at him with a hopeful expression and a small smile on my face. Shy guys are usually a bit more difficult, but this one looks sweet and handsome too. I could do worse.

"Hey Ben," another one says, "are you so gay you're gonna turn down a beauty when she offers a free massage?"

"I'm not gay," he sighs, as if he's had to explain that bit a thousand times before.

"Fine," he then murmurs.

"Great," I say, and I flash him my sweetest smile, which he returns shyly.

"Do you have a place where we can go?"

"What, you mean, right now?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?"

The other guys start laughing and pushing him from his seat towards me. "Come on, Ben, don't be a woos."

"It's a few blocks to my place and I don't have a car," he says apologetically, glancing towards my high heels.

"I don't mind," I say, still beaming. And so we leave.

The entire walk, he doesn't speak one word.

The confident ones are easier. They practically beg me to give them more and quickly offer to pay for a happy ending, but some of them can turn out to be quite dominant and demanding. This one might need more convincing, but I somehow feel safer with insecure guys.

After arrival in his apartment, he quickly throws some empty cans in the bin and nervously offers me a drink.

"No thank you. Why don't you go ahead and undress. You can lie down on your bed, covered with a towel, and I'll be there in a few minutes?"

"Like, um," he stutters, "completely undress?"

"Naked is easier," I say with a reassuring smile, "but if you're uncomfortable, you can leave your underwear on."

When I enter his room a few minutes later, holding the massage oil in my warmed up hands, he's on his belly with a large towel over his bottom. I take a deep breath and look over his athletic body. Then I sit down on the bed and cover his shoulders and neck with oil.

I plan to work on seducing him later, my first priority is relaxing him so that he doesn't freak out. It helps that he has a great body and that I actually do need the practice.

I can feel him loosen up underneath my working fingers as I slowly make my way, covering every muscle in his back, neck and arms.

"Is that okay?" I ask in a soft voice.

"Yeah, this is amazing," he breathes. It almost sounds like a moan and I smile. Not much longer now.

I move to the other side and start massaging his feet, working my way up to his calves and his thighs.

Every time I reach the top of his leg, I move my hands a tiny bit further underneath the towel. Sometimes my fingertips grace his inner thighs and when I don't feel him tense, I get a little bolder. I move my massage a little closer to his butt cheeks and from time to time, I accidentally brush his balls.

When I think he's ready, I say, "there, now you can turn around so I can do the front."

I hear him gasp, but he doesn't dare to disobey, so slowly he turns around and he tries to adjust the towel to hide how hard he's gotten.

Obviously, his attempts are in vain; his erection is strong and proud, pushing the towel up in a visible bulge.

His face is bright red, but I chuckle and say "don't worry about that, it happens all the time, a side effect of being so relaxed. I'm not insulted, it's actually a compliment."

"Okay," he sighs relieved.

I start working on his shoulders again, and he closes his eyes because he doesn't really know where to look, now I'm bent over him, showing some cleavage. From time to time, my hands roam over his belly and accidentally, I bump my elbow against his erection. I pretend not to notice, and so does he.

Then I move to his legs again, focusing mostly on his thighs. I move the towel a little bit, making sure the fabric brushes over his sensitive tip. His erection twitches desperately, but I still continue the massage as if nothing is going on.

I can tell by the permanent blush on his face that he is very much aware of his aroused state.

"Can I ask you something, Ben?" I say softly.

"Um, sure."

"It's been a while, right? Since you've been touched, there…"

His cheeks redden even more when he nods.

"I might be able to help you out, you know, a happy ending, but that won't be for free."

His eyes widen and he quickly replies, "no, I can't do that."

I agree, "yeah, you're absolutely right. A good-looking guy like you shouldn't have to pay for something like that, I'm sorry I brought it up."

"That's fine," he says.

I continue the sensual massage in silence, but after a while, he clears his throat and then whispers "how much?"

I look down to hide my knowing smile and say "five hundred."

Ben releases a long breath and his face falls, when he whispers, "I don't have that amount of cash here. I only have about three hundred."

"How about just a hand job then?" I suggest in my most innocent voice.

I'm actually relieved that his cash is limited, so I won't have to explain why the rest of my body isn't for sale. The rich ones have difficulty accepting that.

"That sounds great," he sighs, clearly relieved that his suffering is about to end.

I take a step back and he gets the hint. He wraps the towel around his waist and gets up from the bed to find the money. When he walks back into the room, I can tell he's nervous again. He hands me the money and says, "I don't usually do this."

"I believe you, Ben. But hey, it's your money, you worked hard for it, and you deserve a release. Nobody needs to find out."

He nods and visibly relaxes again. All through his nerves, the erection never softened, and I suspect he's about to explode at the first touch.

Still, I like him to enjoy as much as possible, so that hopefully, he'll remember me.

I cover my hands with oil and softly spread the warm fluid over his hard cock. He breathes out with a moan and closes his eyes again as I start tracing patterns with my fingertips from his base to his tip.

From time to time I wrap my fingers around him to squeeze tight, but I avoid actually jerking him just yet. I notice pleased that he's moaning out loud now while his body squirms underneath my touch.

Just when he's about to beg, I make a ring with two fingers around his base, squeezing it tight so that his orgasm is prolonged just a little bit longer, and my other hand starts sliding up and down his shaft. Every time my palm glides over his wet tip, his belly tenses and he lets out a groan. He's close now and his hips start pushing upwards.

Finally I have mercy on the poor boy and let go. Both my hands move up and down fast, while I softly encourage him.

"That's it, Ben, come on," I moan, "that's right, let it all out, come for me."

With one last groan, his body collapses on the mattress while his cock twitches and pulses in my hands. A few powerful squirts land on his belly, all the way up to his shoulders, and I keep pumping him until he's completely empty.

"Jeezes," he pants, "that was… fuck… that must have been the most amazing thing I ever felt."

I smile smugly. They usually feel like this after such a long foreplay. With their girlfriends, there is no need to build the tension and tease for hours, if they know they can have her whenever they want.

I quickly clean him up and lean over to kiss him on the cheek. He's still panting, utterly spent on the bed. Before I stand up again, I whisper in his ear, "you were amazing too, Ben. And I bet you taste incredible as well, so if you ever have more cash around, give me a call, I'll leave my card."

He groans at the image of a blow job and I grin. After putting my card on his nightstand, I quietly get out of his apartment, leaving him in bliss on the bed.

I actually liked this one, and I wonder if he'll ever dare to call me again. Maybe one of his friends will if he shares this story.

On my way back, I can't help thinking of Jacob again.

I ran towards this distraction to get away from him. How close he got to the real me for a second there.

But now I'm walking home again, I already look forward to his company. Even if it means being dangerously close and putting my heart and all the walls I built on the line.

I wish I would be less complicated. I wish I could just walk into the apartment and snuggle next to him on the couch.

Somehow another image pops into my mind and the couch snuggle scene changes. What if I'd fall into my familiar pattern around men? Seducing them and making them need that happy ending, need me.

I suddenly imagine everything that happened just now, but with Jacob instead.

I must admit that he's got a great body and I'd enjoy giving him pleasure like this.

But no. I firmly shake my head, making the image go away. I can never do this to Jacob.

For him, it would mean more than a happy ending, and going down that road with him, would ruin everything. I need to promise myself, here and now, that I will never seduce Jacob. I won't use him to make myself feel confident, I don't need that kind of confidence around him anyway. I don't need to play an innocent slut to get his attention.

I should in fact be more appreciative of the respectful way he treats me. I can't blame him for the rotten nature of mankind. When everybody else has proven to me that they are only interested in one thing, he's never even made a move on me suggesting anything like that, even though it's clear that he does have a little crush, just like he did when we were younger.

So along with the promise to never seduce him, I also decide to be a little more open from now on.

He still can't find out my secrets, but I'll be nice to him at least. Even when my instincts tell me to run and push him away, I have to fight that. It's clear that I'm in too deep already.

It's clear that I can't spend one afternoon away from home without missing him a little.

By the time I reach the apartment, I'm ready to apologize in all honesty.

But he's already gone to sleep and I don't have the courage to knock on his door.

Maybe I'll make it up to him tomorrow, if my mood hasn't changed since then.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I wrote this chapter at night, I hope you liked it. So Bella panicked and ran off, let's hope Jacob will still want to talk to her tomorrow. What do you think? <strong>


	5. Chapter 5 Confessions

**AN: This is by far the longest chapter I've ever written, I hope you'll enjoy it!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Confessions<strong>

* * *

><p>I expected her to be distant again, or angry even, after our failed conversation last night. I didn't want to witness that, so I went to bed early.<p>

I also didn't want to face her usually foul mood after returning from her boyfriend, the man she ran to after I scared her away. She probably has no trust issues with him, I think to myself. And again, I know I have myself to blame for losing her trust, even when she doesn't blame me.

But this morning, instead of avoiding me, she's being rather nice.

After having a late brunch with home made pancakes, we spend most of our Saturday together. She joins me for the soccer game in the afternoon. I introduce her as my roommate, and the manager Peter gave her a pass to watch the game with me from the player's box.

Once back in the apartment, we order pizza and have a lazy evening on the couch.

"No studying today?" I ask, knowing that she took an evening off yesterday.

"Nope, most classes are coming to an end. I'm focusing on finding a place for an internship."

"Any ideas?"

"Mm, I had an idea, but I'm not sure…" she says hesitantly.

"You could always give it a try. Where is it?"

"Well, I'm studying sports medicine, and there's this soccer team that might hire an intern." She gives me a pointed look.

"My team? Really? That would be so cool, you have to try. I'll put in a good word for you with Peter."

"No that's okay," she quickly objects, "like I said, I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Why? Because of me?"

She nods, "don't you think it would be weird?"

"What, you being there? Why would that be weird, it's not weird that you're here either," I say confused.

"It wouldn't be just me being there. I'd be working, you know, massaging…"

I understand now what she means.

"So? What are you afraid of? That I can't handle you touching me, or that you won't be able to resist me?" I smirk and to my surprise she blushes.

"I didn't say that," she mutters, "I just think it would be weird."

"Explain."

I shift my position on the couch so that I'm facing her, and I can tell she's feeling uncomfortable.

"I just notice some things in the way you look at me. Like you believe I'm special or something, and I don't want to confuse anything that is between us. I'm just starting to trust you a little bit."

"I can promise you, Bella, that I can handle you massaging me, and if you like me to prove that, you can practice in advance," I add with a wink.

She doesn't smile though, so I continue.

"If you want that internship, give it a try. You don't have to worry about our friendship, I'm professional enough. As for my feelings, you don't have to worry about those either. It's just a little crush, nothing I haven't been through before, and yes, I believe you are special, there is nothing wrong with that."

"I'm not special. If you do have a crush, it's only for the Bella that lives inside your head, that's not the real me."

"I know, but I'll never get to know the real you if you keep hiding her."

"You don't want to know her, believe me. This way is better."

"I think, the more I see of you, without your mask, the more I like you. And if you disagree, then show me what's so evil about you and get this over with. Try me."

"Didn't I show you last night?"

"That wasn't evil. That was you being upset." I smile at her reassuringly.

"I hurt you, didn't I?"

"Not on purpose."

"No. I guess not. But I still don't think you'll like what you see if I do open up."

"I remember the first time you let your guard down with me, when we were fifteen, and I liked that a lot."

* * *

><p><em>Bella was on my mind all through soccer practice. <em>

_I wonder if she's okay after what happened earlier this afternoon. She got into a mean fight with Steven at school, and one of the teachers had to separate them. _

_I saw that Bella had a split lip, and I wanted to ask her what happened, but she didn't return in class. Some kids were whispering that she probably got suspended. _

_Steven came up with some lame story about her attacking him out of nowhere, but I don't really believe him. Bella would never attack someone, he's just trying to explain how she got him so bad that he's got a black eye and a bruised cheek. _

_When I arrive home, I take my bike around the back to the shed, and I see her sitting against the tree she used to climb all the time. _

_This year, we haven't had much chance to hang out, because I got picked up by the local soccer team and I have practice every weekday. I miss her, of course, but I'm also busy with so much stuff that I don't have time to dwell on the distance that's growing between us. We still get to hang out at school, and until I get better at combining soccer with good grades, that will have to do._

_Tonight though, I forget all about my homework when I see her defeated form and I and invite her up to my room. _

_She drops down her school bag I only notice just now, which means she came to my house straight after school. She probably doesn't want to explain to her father how she got that swollen lip. _

"_Did you put some ice on that?" I ask, when she gets comfortable on my bed staring at the ceiling. _

_She shakes her head._

"_Wait right here," I say, and I go downstairs, gathering the stuff I need. It's not the first time I have to patch up Bella after she got into a fight. Although it's been a while. I guess fighting isn't that cool anymore when you're not eight. _

_She lets me clean up her face and disinfect her lip, without shrinking back from my touch. _

"_What happened," I ask. I expected her to be furious about whatever Steven did, so her passive behavior worries me._

_She simply shrugs and says "you probably got his version already."_

"_I don't care about his version, he's not my friend, you're my friend."_

"_I don't want to talk about it," she mutters. _

_Great. She's in that mood. _

_I decide to leave her be and pick up my school bag to start some homework, but she suddenly whispers "Jacob?"_

_I turn around, "yeah?"_

"_Hold me?"_

_For a few seconds I hesitate. _

_Bella has never asked me to hold her before, and my heart breaks for my strong friend who looks so vulnerable right now. Even though we haven't been as close as we used to, she's still my best buddy and I still care about her with all my heart._

_So I lay down next to her and clumsily wrap her into my arms. _

_She doesn't hug me back, but she hides her face against my chest and then shocks me even more by starting to sob. _

_I have no idea how to deal with this so I simply do nothing and stay motionless. I guess in a way I expect her to get up and run out any moment._

"_It won't get any better," she wails softly, "it'll never pass."_

_I almost ask her what will never pass, but I don't want her to know that I don't understand, so I try to soothe her, "it will get better, you'll see."_

"_No it won't," she sobs, "even if I ever get out, there will be others. The world is filled with Stevens."_

_I really wonder what that jerk did to get her in a state like this. _

"_Don't listen to Steven, Bella, you know he's an asshole."_

"_It's nothing he said," she continues, a little calmer now, "it's what he did."_

"_What's that?" I ask again._

"_He tried to…" she takes a deep breath, "he touched me. And I punched him."_

_I ask confused, "touched you?"_

"_Yeah, touched me, you know, in places."_

"_Oh," I say. _

_That bastard. How dare he? If anyone would ever be allowed to touch Bella, it would be me. If one day she'll stop hating men, I'll be her first. And he better stay the hell away from her or I'll make sure his other eye gets the same color._

_My anger isn't important now though, what matters is how that pervert hurt Bella._

"_Well, I don't think he'll do it again," I try to comfort her, "you really got him good, his face is a mess."_

"_That's not really the point," she mutters._

"_How so?"_

"_Because there will be others, and I can't punch them all, can I? I wish I could be a boy. Will you help me cut off my hair?"_

"_Your hair is beautiful," I say, while softly stroking it._

"_Exactly. Everybody says I'm beautiful and I hate it. All they mean is I'd like to fuck you."_

_I'm taken aback by her harsh choice of words and object, "that's never what I meant."_

"_I know Jacob," she sighs, "you're the exception."_

_I want to take that as a compliment and in response, I squeeze her tighter against my chest._

_Her gasp makes me let go and look at her questioningly._

"_I think he hit some ribs as well," she explains._

"_Is it bruised?" I ask worriedly._

"_I think so, I can't really see it, it's more right here," she points at her side from her shoulder to her back. _

"_Do you, um, I could put some salve on those bruises, if you want," I stutter. _

_I wouldn't call myself a perv or a maniac, but the idea of putting my hands on her skin, underneath her shirt, makes my belly flip and my mouth dry anyway._

_She continues to astonish me with her open and trusting behavior by sitting up and pulling her shirt over her head. _

_I immediately notice the dark purple bruise that made her wince, along with some other bruises in different shades of blue and yellow. Those can't be caused by Steven, since they are in various stages of healing, but I shut up about it and start putting the salve on her fresh bruise._

_ I don't know what I expected her to be like, but I nearly gasp when I feel how soft her skin is. She always seems such a tough girl, but she feels vulnerable underneath my touch. _

_My eyes can't help but search for the outline of her breast, and my body can't help but react. Strongly. _

_I know a horny teenager is the last thing she needs right now, but my lower body is completely beyond my control. _

_I do manage to hide my situation for her and it subsides when she's fully dressed again. _

_After that I try to keep more distance, even when she snuggles closer to me later that night, underneath my covers. Maybe we've come to an age where it's no longer appropriate to sleep in the same bed, and it has become a rare event, but I explained to my mother what happened and she simply said "I trust you."_

_I guess even if I wasn't to be trusted, Bella's fists are a solid barrier to cross._

_In the dark, our conversation becomes a bit more personal, and she tells me more details about what Steven did exactly. _

_Then suddenly, out of the blue, she asks, "Jacob, are you gay?"_

"_What?" I reply, wide awake again, "what makes you think that?"_

"_I don't know," she says, "you never had a girlfriend."_

"_Bella," I groan, a little bit insulted. "You know why I haven't. And besides, I'm too busy now with soccer and schoolwork." _

"_I know," she states matter-of-factly, "but… you never seem interested in sex. Or like with me, you never even look at my body."_

"_Ha!" I laugh, and then chuckle softly._

"_What?"_

"_I hate to burst your bubble, Bella, but it's not because I'm a gentleman that I'm not looking."_

"_For example," she says, not ready to let go. "You claim to be interested in me, right?"_

"_Do we have to have this conversation?" I groan. _

"_Yes," she says bossily, "so, if that's true, you would have been affected, earlier, when I took my shirt off."_

"_Yeah, and?" _

"_So, were you?" I hear her smirk, as if she's proven now that I'm gay, and I'm glad the darkness is hiding my furious blush._

_I don't reply and she suddenly sits up. "Jacob?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Please don't tell me you were turned on."_

"_I won't tell you," I mutter, blushing even harder._

"_Are you serious?"_

"_Come on Bella, what do you want me to say? Do you actually want me to be gay?"_

_She sighs and lays down again, "I would appreciate that, yes."_

_I chuckle, "I'm sorry. I never lied about how I feel. And I don't control… certain things."_

"_So," she continues, "while you were putting that salve on me, you were hard?"_

_I sigh, "does that even matter? Do you trust me?"_

"_I do trust you, but it matters to me. I guess I thought you were over me by now."_

"_You act like you broke my heart, Bella, but it's not like that. I'm not hurt or anything, you just happen to be the only girl I notice. Or want."_

"_So you haven't kissed anyone yet?"_

_I shake my head, "you would be the first to know if I had. You?"_

"_No," she says firmly, "and I'm never going to either."_

"_You don't know that. You could fall in love." It hurts a little to say that, to imagine her with someone, but it could happen._

"_Never."_

"_So you'll die a virgin?" I tease her. _

_At this her face falls. I see her lip tremble and I don't know what I said wrong. _

_My hand reaches over for her hand and our fingers lace together. _

_I have no idea what got into my mind, probably nothing at all. If I was thinking, I'd know that this is the worst idea possible, because she just said she never ever wants to kiss anyone, and here I am, leaning in, closing the distance. _

_I squeeze her hand reassuringly and place a soft kiss on her bruised lips. I make sure to keep my mind pure, I guess I want to prove to her that men can be sweet without needing to fuck her. _

_She exhales softly but doesn't pull back, and I move my lips slowly against hers. _

_After a while, my mind is far from pure, but I have myself under control, and when she leans back, she has the sweetest smile on her face._

* * *

><p>"I remember that night," Bella says, with a wistful expression. "We were both so young and naïve."<p>

"I don't think I've changed much," I reply, "although that probably means I'm still naïve."

"Probably," she chuckles. "I'm not the same though."

"I know," I speak softly, and then add, "your boyfriend must be really special, to make you change your convictions like that."

I want to add in my mind "when even your best friend never succeeded."

"My what?" she says confused.

"Your… boyfriend?" I repeat.

She shakes her head, "I don't have a boyfriend, that wouldn't make any sense. Why would I live with you if I had a boyfriend?"

"I don't know," I say, I haven't really thought about that. About the other guy possibly being jealous of me, her roommate.

"I just figured," I continue, deciding to just be open and honest, "you go out a lot, all dressed up, and when you come home, I smell male aftershave, or sometimes you're showered."

She sighs and leans down in the couch, rubbing her face.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she repeats. "I… um… when I go out…" she stops again and thinks about her words. This clearly isn't easy for her.

"You don't have to tell me," I say, although I really do want to know.

"I massage people," she suddenly blurts out, "you know, as a student, I need practice and I make some extra cash for the rent and all. I try to wear nice clothes because people don't want a pierced tattooed gothic freak touching them. So I kinda use my looks. There's a room at the university I can use, and sometimes afterwards, I take a shower. Especially if they are, you know, sweaty."

"Oh, I see."

Before I have time to figure out how I feel about this, she astounds me with new information.

"So yeah, I haven't changed my convictions at all, you're still the only one I ever kissed."

"Seriously?" I ask, eyes wide open.

"Yep. So what about you, you told me you never noticed any girls but me. How much have you changed?"

My cheeks heat up when I admit, "that changed a little bit."

"How many girls?" she asks with a sly smile.

"What do you mean?" I try to avoid the question.

"How many girls have you slept with?"

"Oh, um, that's not really…"

"That many, huh," she interrupts me teasingly.

"No, I don't think it's that many, I just don't want you to draw the wrong conclusions."

"What kind of conclusions," she asks, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"Well, okay, here goes. It took me a really long time to lose my virginity. I was twenty, and this girl, I liked her. A lot. We had good chemistry and good understanding too. We were together a little over a year, and then I guess we drifted apart. She was a hardworking student and I dropped out of college to focus on my soccer career which started going really well. When she broke up with me, I was pretty devastated."

Bella listens to me intently, without interrupting, so I continue with the harder part.

"So after that, I went through a… wilder period. I had a lot of one night stands, but none turned out to be what I was looking for. It's a cliché, right, those soccer girlfriends, all being pretty but so dumb. It's kinda true. Most of them were bitches looking for media attention. It never lasted. The sweet and nice girls simply didn't approach me. By the time I got sick of living that way, I got injured so they lost their interest in me as well. That was almost a year ago."

"And now?"

"What about now?"

"Any girls since you moved here?"

"Nope," I admit, as if that should reassure her that I've grown out of my wilder habits.

"So no sex for almost a year? How's that working for you?" she smirks knowingly.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" I smile. "I know you think men are all horn dogs, and in a way, that's true. I do miss it and I spend a fair amount of time thinking about sex or fantasizing, but it's not like I absolutely need to have it. I have enough control to wait for something better now."

"Waiting for the one?" she asks, raising her eyebrows mockingly.

"No, not really. Just something deeper, a connection that is real."

I carefully avoid eye contact. I don't want her to know that most of my fantasies are about her, even though she might suspect it.

She told me that she's just starting to trust me and doesn't want our friendship to get confused, so I'll behave and make her feel safe.

In the days to follow however, some of her words keep replaying in my mind.

_I don't have a boyfriend._

Along with the look she gave me, as if the thought alone is ridiculous. It definitely changes things.

And then the other line.

_You're still the only one I ever kissed._

No matter how unlikely it is that a beautiful 25-year-old woman has only ever kissed her childhood best friend, I do believe her.

I remember how she lashed out whenever a guy showed her sexual attention, and seeing how guarded she still is, she might still act that way around men, keeping them at distance.

I do feel honored, to be the only one who ever came near her heart, and to be the only one she trusts still.

It makes me feel warm inside.

Not hopeful, but warm nonetheless.

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><p><strong>AN : Dear readers, I hope this chapter made you feel warm as well :) Please let me know! <strong>


	6. Chapter 6 Angel

**Chapter 6: Angel**

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><p>When I get out of the shower, he's fully dressed again, leaning against the headboard of the king size hotel bed. He pats the sheets next to him, inviting me to sit down for a moment. Usually, I rush out as soon as I can, because Peter needs more affection than I'm willing to sell.<p>

But when I hesitate he says, "I hear you are looking for a job opening."

I sigh and take a seat. I asked Jacob not to talk to Peter about this, but obviously he was trying to help me and he has no idea I already shared a connection with his manager before he was transferred to the team.

"It's not a job I'm looking for," I explain, "I need a place for an internship."

"Why haven't you told me before?" he asks, clearly insulted that he had to find out through someone else.

"Because I don't think it's a good idea."

At this, he looks even more offended, as if I'd refuse the spot, simply because he'd be the one offering me.

"I can be discrete, Bella, nobody needs to know."

"I wasn't worried about you, I trust you," I lie.

"I see," he says, still not at ease, "it's Black right? I knew it the moment I saw you together."

He gets up from the bed and starts pacing the room.

"You knew what?" I ask carefully. I need to make sure never to upset Peter, he practically pays my rent on his own.

"About you and him," he clarifies.

"There's nothing between us, he's my childhood neighbor and my flat mate. We're friends."

"Bella," he sighs impatiently, "I'm not dumb and I know what I see. The guy is crazy about you."

"Maybe," I reply softly, "but that doesn't mean we have something."

At this Peter sits down again, with a hopeful expression on his face. Clearly, this thing has been bothering him for a while, probably ever since Jacob introduced me to him.

"If you're not with him, then why not take your internship with us? I would love to see you more often, and I thought you would want that too."

I'm so used to lying to men, saying what they want to hear is part of the job, but I still hate leading Peter on. He's one of the few decent men out there and he deserves a chance of a real relationship.

I cautiously say, "I just think it would be too complicated, with you being my boss and my best friend being there all the time. I'm not sure I'm that good at hiding things."

"We'll work around that, I promise I won't walk in when you're working with the players. I'll wait for you to come to my office. Please, Bella? It means a lot to me and I'll pay you plenty."

How can I refuse that? After all, it's the perfect place for me and every single student in my year would pay great amounts to get a chance to work with those famous soccer players.

So finally, I nod and he hugs me tight. I don't hug back, and I don't relax the way I do sometimes in Jacob's arms, but I let him hold me anyway. For just a few seconds before I pull back.

On my way home, I make up a story about a phone call, a job interview, and a great offer. I make it sound as if I got the internship thanks to him, and I earn a hug from Jacob as well.

It should be disturbing, how easy it is to lie to my best friend, but my conscience has quit it's job a long long time ago. Possibly around the time I started beating guys up whenever they put a finger on me. Or around the time I started asking big money for a stupid hand job, simply because I knew the men were too horny to think straight.

I wish I could say things were different with Jacob. He trusts me and he cares for me a great deal. I wish I could at least feel a pang of guilt with every lie I tell, but it just comes natural to me. I suppose that is another proof of why Jacob is way too good for me and why I'll never deserve a man as pure and kind as him.

Hugging him does feel different than hugging Peter. Probably because Jacob never wants anything from me. And even if he does, he hides it well and acts like a gentleman.

That is why I often allow him near me. Instead of always running off like I did a few months ago, I more often seek his presence, his closeness even. I pretend to be cold and snuggle up against him on the couch. No matter what stuff I went through during the day, and no matter how filled I am with self hate, I let him pull me from the wreckage of my silent reverie. In his arms, I find comfort, without him realizing how much that means to me.

And he talks.

Jacob simply tells me everything and I love it. I still find it strange how a person can be this trusting, this open.

He shares his experiences, present and past, the things I missed out on when our friendship went astray. He talks out loud about his dreams for his future and his career.

When it gets late, he whispers to me his secret wishes, his boyish fantasies about scoring the winning goal in a qualifying game. Or about making the difference to at least one child who thinks he's a hero, just like his life was once changed by his own idols.

In moments like that, I know that he is by far the sweetest person alive. An angel almost.

And it becomes harder to keep my guard up.

I have to admit that when in his arms, I don't find it so ridiculous anymore, to simply let go and enter his fantasy world. In which I'm the right person for him, in which it's okay to let him know every single detail of my life, and kiss him till the world ends.

But I can't fool myself.

As soon as I'm alone again, in my room, in my cold bed, I need to remind myself of the truth.

Lately I've been keeping a list of reasons to repeat inside my head. Over and over again. Reasons why Bella Swan should never have Jacob Black.

Even if he believes that he wants her, or loves her, and even if his emotions start to affect her. It's not right. Bella Swan is a soulless monster, without conscience, without a heart. Sure she has a pretty face, but that's where the beauty ends.

If I should ever forget that, great disasters will happen.

I sometimes see parallels with the fall of Lucifer. He was an angel once, like Jacob is now. But then he had gone off track, he lost all that was good to end up in hell. Which is where Jacob would end up if I would ever allow myself to be with him.

"What are you thinking?" Jacob asks.

His voice is heavy and it's clear that he was about to doze off. The movie we're watching turns out to be quite boring, which caused my own thoughts to wander again.

I can't tell him the truth. If he would ever find out about the list, surely he'd try to convince me that there is nothing wrong with me, and he'd try to make me see beauty inside myself.

I know better. And I don't want him to bother.

So again, I lie, but not completely.

"I was thinking about how comfortable I am, right here."

"Mmm," Jacob hums, and pulls me a little closer against him. His warmth spreads through me and I already dread the moment that I'll step into my cold bed tonight.

"Me too," he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on my hair.

With my ear pressed against his chest, I notice that his heart speeds up, and again I worry about his feelings.

"Jacob," I ask carefully, keeping my cheek against his shirt to avoid eye contact, "is this enough for you?"

"How do you mean?" he asks, a little bit more awake.

"What we share, you and I, right now, is that enough?"

"For now, yeah," he says.

That answer doesn't really soothe me, so I ask, "for now?"

"Yep, for now, it's enough."

"But?"

"No buts. I don't know what the future will bring. Maybe one day my heart will realize that this is just friendship and nothing more. When that happens, it won't be enough, and I'll probably start noticing other girls too."

"That's not really what I meant," I say, ignoring the stab in my heart when I imagine him with someone else, even though that is really what I want for him all along.

"I know," Jacob sighs, "you want to know if I'll get hurt if you never end up being my girl. Right?"

"Something like that," I admit.

"Well, you've always been clear about this being all there will ever be."

"True," I say, "but in the past, I never really acted like this."

"How so?"

"All this cuddling and snuggling, it's gotta be confusing. I really don't want to hurt you and you won't tell me either, if one day this will start to hurt."

He thinks about my words for a bit, and then says, "it's not confusing. Not yet. And I can promise you right now, you're not hurting me. This actually feels good. But you're probably right, when it starts to hurt, I won't be able to tell you."

"Then what?" I say, with clear worry about his heart.

"I think you know me well enough by now to just figure it out. You already notice most of my moods and you understand me without me needing to explain. I feel like I can trust you and I feel safe."

"Don't say that," I whisper, "and don't trust me. I'm…"

"Evil, yeah, I know," he interrupts me with a smile and places another loving kiss on my hair.

"I wasn't going to say that, but yeah, that too. I meant that I feel like I'm using you. Knowing how you feel…"

"I don't see it that way, don't worry. You're not leading me on. I know where I stand, and all you ever ask for is friendship anyway. A close kind of friendship, but nothing out of line. Nothing I'm not willing to give gladly."

"You would gladly give too much as well," I mutter.

"Don't worry, sweetie, really, I'm getting a lot out of this too. I notice how you have changed around me, from being guarded all the time, to being like this. I feel like you really forgave me for what happened in high school. And even though it's only friendship, I love it. I swear. You are amazing, and being close to you is amazing."

I relax against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. And after a while, I dare to ask the other question that has been on my mind.

"And what about sex?"

"What about it?" Again his voice sounds deep, as if he was dozing off.

"Do you think about it?"

He chuckles, "do I think about sex? Sure."

"With me," I explain reluctantly, as if that was obvious already.

He takes a deep breath and I hear his heart speed up again. I think that is my answer right there.

"Would you mind?" he asks carefully.

"No, not me. I trust you. But maybe you do?"

"Me? No, I don't mind thinking about sex," he chuckles again, as if this conversation is rather amusing.

"You know what I mean," I nudge him, to make him stop joking.

"I think so," he says, in a more serious tone. "You wonder if I'll start needing sex with you if you're being close to me all the time."

"Sort of," I say, "surely that's the case, if you fantasize about it already."

"Bella, darling," he says, "I fantasize about winning the world cup, too. That doesn't mean I can't be happy with what I have right now. And yes, at night in my bed, when my body needs a release and when I bring up thoughts that might arouse me, I do think about you. Because you are sexy, and I feel intimate with you. I hope you're not freaked out by that."

"No, I'm not," I answer, and it's the truth. I've become used to men jerking off over me, and although I usually think it's disgusting, I really don't mind Jacob dreaming about intimacy with me.

"Good. And you don't have to worry. Like I said, I know where I stand."

"So it's not frustrating?"

"Nope," he answers, "at the moment it feels nice. As in nice to hold somebody as sexy as you, and nice to not need much imagination when the moment is there. I guess the only worry I have is my body not knowing where the boundaries are, and blurring the lines without intending to."

"How do you mean," I ask, wondering how close he is to losing control.

"Like," he tries to explain, "I'd like to caress you, when I'm holding you like this, but in my foggy mind, I don't really know if that is something friends are allowed to do. I'm really scared that if I make a mistake like that, I'll lose all the trust I've been building up these months."

"You won't lose it like that, just by blurring one line," I reassure him.

"You don't know that," he whispers.

"I do," I state. "I know I've shut down completely in the past, whenever you came too close. But that was more emotionally, not physically. If your… desire ever makes me uncomfortable, I'll just tell you."

"Maybe you'll think I'm like the rest of them, trying to get into your pants."

"No," I shake my head, "you're different. That's one thing I trust, and I'll be able to tell the difference. Between you being confused or you trying to get something."

"Good," he says, relaxing again.

After a long silence, in which this time I'm the one to nearly drift to sleep, he suddenly whispers, "so in conclusion, I won't get confused in case you blur the affectionate lines and you won't get confused in case I blur the sexy lines."

I think about his words and then nod, "yeah, let's both agree this is just friendship, even if we sometimes act differently."

"Right," he says.

After another pause, I wake up again when I feel his strong arms picking me up.

Before I know what's happening, he's carrying me into my room and lowering me onto my bed.

"Night, Bella," he whispers, "I'm really glad we had this conversation, thank you. Sleep tight."

He places a soft kiss on my cheek and then walks out of my room, softly closing the door behind him.

I know I dreaded this moment, but somehow my bed doesn't feel as cold tonight.

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><p><strong>AN: I know most of you would love to see something more than friendship, but at the moment, this is where the story leads me. I can't promise a happy ending, even if I hate stories without happy ending. I just write what comes to mind, and I also hope that Dr. Jacob will be able to heal some of her pain. At the moment, the best way to do that is through friendship. Agree or disagree? <strong>


	7. Chapter 7 Chance

**Chapter 7: Chance**

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><p>It happens more often now, that she nods off in my arms, and that I carry her to bed. It's becoming very tempting to not get comfortable and hold her all night, or even carry her into my own room. But I don't want to freak her out when she wakes up, and I also don't want to tempt myself to do more than sleep.<p>

The way in which I'm attracted to her, it's almost ridiculous.

I thought at first that I was just reliving a childhood crush, but now my affections are sort of taking over to the point that I start to worry.

To me, she has the body of a goddess, and when she's lying in my arms, every move she makes feels sensual, even when I know she's trying hard to be unattractive. Maybe that's why I want her even more.

I wish she would let me show her how beautiful she really is. But I know she won't hear anything about it.

To her, all my feelings are simply caused by hormones and nostalgia. And any affection I might have that goes beyond horniness, only exists because I am believed to have a false image of her.

She claims to be evil, but to me, she's just Bella. A girl with a rough childhood and trust issues, true, but I can't see a single bad thing about her.

Maybe she's right, maybe all my visions are clouded by my immature but powerful crush on her.

Again I start to wonder how I'm ever going to hide my feelings for my teammates in the next few weeks, when she's going to be around every day, touching me, touching them…

"What are you thinking?" she asks with a grin and I chuckle.

"You stole my line."

"What gives you the sole right to pry into my brain?" she says with an amused tone.

"You never need to pry, I'm an open book to you."

"Just spill it," she nudges me impatiently.

"Fine. I was thinking about who I'll be most jealous of next week, when you massage them all."

"Hmm," she replies, "at least that keeps you from wondering whether or not you'll jump me when I massage _you_." She playfully elbows me in the ribs.

"Still wondering that too," I tease her back.

She laughs out loud and it's the most wonderful sound. The way my belly flips when she does that, sure that's not caused by hormones, right?

I get cheeky and say "I think you should give me a preview."

"Sure. Which teammate should I massage to test how jealous you get?"

"Yep, that's your evil side right there," I say, and she laughs again. But when I look at her, waiting for her to reply to the real question that still hangs in the air, she sobers up.

"I don't know, Jake."

"What, you don't trust me?"

She raises her eyebrows as if that was a stupid question. And I guess it is. She falls asleep in my arms on a regular basis and lets me tuck her in, so that must mean she feels pretty safe.

"I just think it could be weird."

"Weirder than us cuddling all the time?" I ask her, pointing out the obvious as well. Obvious to everybody else at least.

I told my friend and team mate Paul about her, when he kept trying to set me up with some of our groupies. I explained that I'm already head over heels with my roommate. He gave me a worried look at first, a look that said "be careful." But when I gradually told him about our interactions, he became more and more convinced that it's only a matter of time. He keeps asking me if she's figured it out yet, keeps making jokes about me and her acting like a married couple already, staying in for the Saturday night movies on TV and all.

But I know better.

There used to a time where she was just as close to me. A time in which I once believed that it was only a matter of time till she'd be mine.

And she never did.

In fact, I am convinced she's only allowing herself to be so close to me, because there's no chance that we'll ever be more. Kinda like how a girl loves to be close to her gay best friend. Someone to cuddle and pet, while still feeling safe.

I don't want to spend all my time waiting, for that second chance, for a break that will make it okay.

I don't want to hope.

When she's not answering, I know I should probably let the subject drop. She often freezes when the topic moves too close to my feelings, or any possible weirdness between us, and I mostly let it be.

But not this time.

I need to know that we'll be okay next week. I need to know that she'll still feel safe being even closer to me.

"What's the matter, Bella? So what if I think you're sexy and what if I like you more than I should? You're a professional, right? You massage men all the time."

"That's different," she mutters. And I see it right there. She shuts herself off and looks away.

But I won't have it. So I lean in closer to her and place my fingertips underneath her chin, forcing her to look up at me.

"Bella, don't do this, please." I whisper.

"Do what?" she murmurs, still trying to look away.

"Don't shut me out. At least try to explain what you're so afraid of. Me, I'm not afraid I'll lose control, even if I might feel tempted. I won't. I just need to know you won't choke when it's me. I'd hate for you to be comfortable around everyone else, but me. Just because I'm too close."

She finally looks me in the eyes and seems to understand.

"You're worried about me?" she asks in a small voice.

"Well, yeah, and about me too. If you freak out on me now, I'd be hurt. I don't want to depend on you, but right now, you have the power to really hurt me."

"I know," she whispers with a sad voice.

We both sit in silence for a while, until she casually takes my hand in hers.

I think she wants to resume the movie and close the topic: she sometimes holds my hand when she's focused on the screen. But her eyes stay intently on mine.

Slowly, she starts to massage the palm of my hand, with strong and confident fingertips, working her way from my wrist to my thumb. And up again, repeating the same motions to massage all my fingers.

I smile at her reassuringly and then lean back against the couch, enjoying the relaxed feeling that comes over me. I never knew a hand massage could feel this wonderful.

And sensual as well.

I try my hardest to keep my thoughts pure, knowing that she's scanning my face for every possible response, but I fail miserably. The way her fingers work their way over my skin makes me crave that same attention on another body part. I grow so hard in my pants that I'm starting to feel uncomfortable, but I manage to keep my breathing under control and I don't think she notices.

Not much at least.

After some time, fortunately the tension subsides, and I feel a new kind of peace come over me.

My affection for her flows freely and I wish I could just melt into her, right here, and make the world stop. She's still watching me intently, but in her gaze, I notice the same kind of affection. Only a bit more guarded.

I wrap the fingers of my free hand around her massaging hand, holding it still, and then softly pull her closer to me.

She leans in for a hug, but somewhere between her sitting up right and laying against my chest, I lean in as well, so that my lips land on hers.

Instinctively, I place both my hands on her cheeks and kiss her gently, without hesitation.

For a moment, for just one wonderful and surreal moment, she kisses me back. Her lips move and I nearly sigh in bliss into her mouth.

But then the predictable thing happens.

She pulls back, and instead of giving me that same speech about her not being good enough, she shuts down completely and rushes off into her bedroom.

I'm left on the couch, alone and disappointed. I'm mad at myself, but not enough to push down the hurt of her rejection.

Again I realize it's _not_ a matter of time. She wanted to be closer to me, she wanted to kiss me, but she simply won't allow it. This isn't something that will be fixed with time.

And maybe I've broken it for good by being so stupid.

I can't let her retreat like that. For all I know, she might be packing her bags at this very moment.

I slowly get up from the couch, wipe away the tears that escaped, and walk to her door.

"Bella, please… I'm sorry," I try, but she won't answer.

I want to explain, I want to apologize a thousand times over.

The more I think about it, the more I feel like slapping myself. This is exactly why she didn't want to massage me. This is exactly what she hates about men. And here I go and prove that I'm just like all the rest.

"Please," I whisper again, before I slide down, my back against her door, holding my face in my hands.

I imagine her packing her things, leaving the apartment without saying goodbye, and new tears start to fall.

The nightmare vision dissolves when I nearly fall back, as she softly opens her bedroom door.

I scramble on my feet and whisper again, "I'm sorry."

She steps back and sits on her bed, leaving the door open. I hesitate but when she looks up at me, I walk inside the room and sit next to her.

I have no idea what to say so I simply stare at my hands.

With relief, I notice that she hasn't packed anything yet.

Suddenly, I feel her soft fingertips on my cheeks, wiping away the fresh tears.

"I shouldn't have walked away," she mutters, which almost sounds like an apology.

"It's okay," I reply, "I shouldn't have kissed you, you were clear enough."

From the corner of my eye, I notice her shrug. "You're confused," she murmurs.

At this I look up at her, and notice that she's been crying as well.

I shake my head, "I'm not confused, Bella. I know what I feel, there is no confusion there. Maybe you are confused?" I try.

I would like to hear from her why she kissed me back, that first moment.

But she shakes her head. "I'm not," she objects.

I sigh, and she continues, "maybe I'm giving mixed signals. And I apologize for that, but you said you'd understand if I did."

Her last line sounds accusing, so I mutter defensively, "you said you'd understand too, if I blurred the lines."

"I would. And I do," she replies in a soft tone.

"Then why do you run off?"

At this she sighs. "Not because I don't understand. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at me."

"Why?" I don't understand what she did wrong, apart from being so wonderful I can't help but fall for her.

"For being stupid. For allowing images of things that can't be."

"What kind of things?" I ask, hopeful almost, wondering if she's been thinking about me and her together.

"Stupid things," she mutters.

I feel that she's tempted to hide away again, but I'm right here on her bed, and she's got no where to run from me. I can see the fear in her eyes, but I won't allow it.

"Bella," I sigh, leaning closer to her. I make it clear that I only intend to hug her this time, and she lets me. I feel how tense she is, but I try anyway.

I whisper in her ear, "Bella, talk to me. Tell me what happened to you. Who made you believe that a chance for happiness is a stupid thing?"

She shakes her head, but I know I hit home because she trembles in my arms. I squeeze her tight, pulling her closer even to me, hoping that she'll finally feel safe enough to talk to me.

"I know they hurt you," I whisper.

She doesn't ask who, so she is very well aware who I mean and I know I'm right. Her trembling becomes more violent, but still she doesn't make a sound.

"Bella", I breathe against her neck, "it's okay…"

Suddenly, she puts both her palms on my chest and pushes back.

"It's not okay."

Her voice sounds cold and her eyes look the same.

I know I went too far, I pushed her too much.

"You and me, we can't be," she says, looking away from me.

"I wasn't talking about you and me right now," I make a final attempt.

"You need to forget about me," she continues, as if she hasn't heard me, "you need to move on and find someone better. Someone who can give you what you need."

I start to get upset and ask her, a little harsher than I intend to, "how do you know what I need?"

She looks at me again, with a defeated and pleading look, "you need someone sweet. Someone who is just as giving as you are. Someone who won't push you away when everything about you is pure kindness. Someone who isn't damaged, like me. You deserve someone better."

I open my mouth to answer, to tell her I only want her, but she won't let me.

"Can you please go now?" she pleads.

I try to fight it, but I still get mad at her. I should probably give in, knowing that her behavior right now is my own fault for pushing her, but I've simply heard this line one too many times.

"I'm sick of you trying to tell me what I deserve."

"That may be true, but I won't… I can't allow it. It's still the truth," she states.

I shake my head and command her, "Bella, look me in the eyes and tell me that you want me to be with someone else."

To my surprise, she does. She looks up, straight at me, and she says in a steady voice, "I want you to be with someone else."

She might as well have ripped my heart out, but I'm too mad to be hurt right now.

"You don't want that," I say in a low voice.

"I do," she says stubbornly. "I'll never make you happy and you won't make me happy. I honestly want you to move on and be with someone better."

"Fine," I say, getting angrier with each passing minute.

"You agree?" she asks and the hope in her tone cuts through me.

"Not yet. But I'll make you see that you don't want me with someone else."

"Alright," she says hesitantly.

Still filled with anger, I get up from her bed and finally let her be alone.

Instead of going to my own bedroom, where I know the pillow would be stained with tears, I grab my coat, put on my shoes, and leave the apartment.

My mind is already scanning through the list of possible girls to bring home. If I would bring home a bitchy girl, who doesn't know me at all, and who isn't kind or giving, Bella will see that I'm not better off with someone else.

And maybe, just maybe, she'll give herself a chance.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for waiting, you guys! What do you think, will his plan work or backfire? <strong>


	8. Chapter 8 Sweet Madness

**Chapter 8: Sweet madness**

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><p>I know I hurt his feelings, and it only adds to the reasons why I hate myself so much. It only convinces me more that I'm not the right girl for him.<p>

Even though he found his way under my skin. And even though I can't seem to stop thinking about his lips on mine.

That kiss…

I've only ever kissed one boy before, and it was Jacob. But this kiss…

He's not a boy anymore, and even though men tend to scare me much more than boys do, I very much liked kissing this man. Too much actually.

I noticed that he was getting strong feelings during the little hand massage.

I was too, in a way. It was a warm and intimate moment, it was the perfect moment for a kiss.

That is probably why I didn't pull back. I sort of went with the flow for just one second, and I kissed him back.

I know that he felt it too, it was clear in the confusion on his face minutes later.

I don't think I ever felt so torn before.

I hate the voice in my head that ruined the moment, but I also truly believe it. Everything about me proves that the voice is right.

That I am wrong.

So very wrong for wanting that kiss to last longer. For looking at his lips the next few days.

His lips have been quiet.

I know he's hurt, but there is nothing I can say or do to make it better. I'd only make it worse. I'd want to kiss him again, confuse him all over, pull him closer to me and push him away again. And hate myself for it.

No, I just need to give him some time.

And myself as well. To stop craving those lips...

What is up with that anyway? I never needed that kind of affection. I guess I always saw any romantic action as a hidden way to get into my pants. And yet with him, I know that's not what it was about. He felt the same way I did. And it was wonderful.

He tasted like warmth, his hands on my cheeks felt like home. The way he leaned into me, with the sweetest of sighs...

Stop.

Stop craving his kiss. It won't happen, it can't.

I must not allow it.

When I look up from my cup of soup, I catch him staring at me and he quickly looks away. I thought he was busy preparing some dinner, but instead he was leaning against the counter, facing me.

The question is right there in the air. 'What are you thinking.' He always asks me that when he gives me this look.

But not this time.

Maybe he's given up.

The thought fills me with relief and with sadness equally. I came close to telling him more, back in that couch, lying in his arms. But I couldn't in that moment. Not when he was feeling so… loving towards me. Especially not then.

And now he stopped asking so my secrets are safer again.

Slowly, he walks towards the door and grabs his coat. I want to ask where he's going. It's late and he usually stays in to get an early night. Being a pro and all.

But he doesn't tell and I don't ask.

Instead, I should be the one to get an early night.

But I can't. I need to know he's okay. I can't sleep, thinking that he's out there, in a pub somewhere, drinking or doing whatever, just to get away from me.

The guilt is almost making me call him to ask if he's alright, but I can keep myself from doing that, just long enough to hear his key turn the lock.

Relief washes over me. My Jacob is home again.

It's pathetic really. What am I ever going to do if he moves on in his life without me? How will I ever go back to living alone, now I've grown so used to his kind company?

Before I can get up from the couch and pretend to ignore him while I casually go to sleep, my heart drops in my stomach when I hear another voice as the door opens.

"Hahaha," her shrill voice laughs, "stop doing that."

Both Jacob and this girl stumble inside, giggling, holding on to each other.

They seem pretty tipsy, but as soon as he enters, his eyes find mine in the dark room.

I'm still too shocked to actually respond. Here I was, thinking he'd be sad out there, when he really was picking up girls.

Now I wish I had gone to bed to avoid this situation. It's starting to get awkward when the girl clearly has no idea they are not alone in the dark room. She leans into him and starts kissing his neck, while her hand moves to the front of his pants in a very unsubtle way.

I quickly get up and clear my throat.

"Um, I'm going to sleep," I say.

The girl slowly turns around and gives me a surprised smile.

"Who is this," she asks Jacob without looking at him. Instead she checks me out, and I hate the fact that I'm wearing my old cozy pajamas and that she's so much taller and skinnier than I am.

"This is my roommate Bella," Jacob says, while pulling the girl close to his side so that she wouldn't get insecure. She doesn't seem like the insecure type anyway and she clearly doesn't fear me, I notice by the pitiful looks she's giving me.

"Hi sweetie," she chirps in a fake friendly voice.

I manage a forced smile and look at Jacob.

"Meet Brittany," he says with a pointed look, "she's someone else. I'm with someone else tonight."

I finally get it. He's trying to prove something.

"Maybe we should go into your room", Brittany says with a naughty grin, interrupting our long eye contact.

"That's okay," I mutter, "I was about to go to sleep anyway."

"Oh no sweetie," she slurs, "don't let us scare you away, we were going to sleep too, right Jakey?" she giggles.

"Right," he says, before taking her hand and pulling her with him into his room.

There I am, in the middle of the dark living room, in my worn pajamas.

And suddenly the thought of going to sleep, right next to his room, doesn't seem so appealing anymore.

But I still do.

The voice inside my head tells me that this is exactly what I deserve. I wanted him to move on.

Okay, maybe I didn't want him to bring home a drunken bimbo, but I won't judge. This girl probably has more to offer him than I do. And the proof of that is clear by the noises coming through the wall. They both giggle and stumble through his room, possibly taking each others clothes off right now.

I get underneath my covers but I fight the urge to cover my ears with my pillow. I deserve to hear this.

I hurt him and I deserve to hear his revenge.

Her voice makes me sick, but the long minutes in which I hear no sounds at all make me even more sick. It means they are kissing, or maybe more.

Probably more.

After a while, I hear new sounds. In between her fake moans and sighs, I hear their mattress creak, I hear his soft grunts and I start to cry.

Instead of finally allowing myself to escape - my earphones are right next to me on the nightstand - I open the drawer and pull out an old friend. I turn the razor blade around between my fingers, spinning it, while the torturous part of my brain keeps focusing on the sounds he is making.

Should it really hurt so much when all I want is friendship?

Maybe he was right. Maybe I'm selfish enough to want him for myself. Or maybe I just need to be stronger.

For him. He's better off with her. And she's already giving him things I can't give him.

As he's nearing his orgasm, the razor blade carelessly moves over my arm. The familiar sting and the warm drops make me high enough to ignore the warm tears on my cheeks.

At last, the sounds of his bliss fade away and I can finally breathe again.

To avoid sobbing, I pull my knees up against my chest and the razor blade falls to the ground. It will take a long time before my tears will stop falling, but I know that in the end, the anger will take over again.

I'll hate myself for allowing too much, for craving something that I can't have. For thinking about his lips all day, the lips I pulled away from, and then get hurt when they kiss someone else.

I hear his bedroom door open and wait for the sound of the bathroom door. Instead, there is silence, and then a soft thump on my door.

A whisper.

I keep quiet, pretending to sleep, but I'm very much awake, trying to figure out the sounds I'm hearing.

"Bella," his voice whispers.

I want him to go away. He should never see me like this, but instead of telling him to go, I pretend to sleep. He should go back to her and stop thinking about me.

There's no such luck for me. I quickly wipe my face when he slowly opens the door and walks into my room, to sit on my bed. The room is dark, I can only see his outline against the low light that comes through my door.

He sighs.

"Why didn't you stop me?" he whispers.

I simply shrug, even though he can't see me. I'm totally confused. Was I supposed to stop him then?

"Is this really what you want?" he continues.

I want to say no. He clearly knows that I'm awake, but I don't trust my voice and to my disgust, I notice that there are still tears running down my cheeks.

He sighs again.

"Bella," he starts, but then he shifts on the mattress.

"What is this?" he asks.

Mortification hits me when I realize what he means.

He gets up, pulls the cover away from me and gasps.

"Bella!"

"Shush," I mutter, wishing that he'd leave now before he sees too much, and hoping that the bimbo won't be alarmed by our whispers and enter my room.

"Oh, Bella, what have you done, I need to call 911," he whispers urgently.

"No! No, it's okay. It's nothing, it'll heal."

I try to cover up the battle field that was my arm just an hour ago, but he's already holding my hand and pulling my arm into the light.

"Shit," his panicked voice mutters.

I pull my hand back, "it's really nothing, nothing deep, look," I quickly wipe at the cuts with my sheet, causing the wounds to bleed again.

"Stay here," he orders, and steps out of my room.

This time I do hide myself underneath my pillow. This night is only getting worse. First there's this unbridgeable distance between us, then I have to listen to my Jacob making love to that … girl, and now I'm even more humiliated when he notices I've been cutting myself.

Soon enough he'll realize the razor being here wasn't a coincidence, and he'll understand what kind of freak I am.

When he walks in again, he doesn't pull the pillow away from me and allows me to hide while he cleans up my arm with a cold wet towel. He expertly puts a bandage on my arm, all the while holding my hand firmly in his.

When he's done, I notice that he's calm again. He probably decided that the wounds are indeed not very deep and nothing to worry about.

I move the pillow away from my mouth to say, "you didn't have to do that. You can go back to her now."

"She sleeps," he replies, as if that explains why he's sitting with me instead of lying next to her.

There's a long silence, and when he finally moves, I get angry at myself again for being disappointed that he's about to leave.

Instead of getting up though, he pulls away the covers and lays down next to me, pulling me close against his chest.

I don't push him away. I couldn't if I wanted to. Even if I hate him as much as I hate myself right now, especially the smell of her on him, I need him close.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, and then quietly starts to sob. I wrap my bandaged arm around his waist and pull him closer, in an attempt to let him know that it's okay. Even though it's very much not okay.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, I had no idea," he whispers again.

I'm not sure what he's referring to, but I don't respond. All I can think is that no matter what he thinks he found out tonight, he still has no idea. He may have discovered another level of me being completely fucked up, but he knows nothing yet.

And because I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, how we'll act around each other, or how much I'll hate the both of us for all the messed up shit that happened tonight, I stop the fight for now. The voice is finally quiet.

It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees.

I allow myself to fall asleep in his arms.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Some new stuff going on in this chapter. Do you think things will change now?<strong>


	9. Chapter 9 Job

**Chapter 9: Job**

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><p>I wake up to the sound of voices coming through the bedroom door which is left ajar. It takes me a few seconds to recognize the voices and to realize I'm not in my own room.<p>

"Where's Jacob," a girl asks. I struggle to remember her name. Britt? Britney something?

Slowly the memory of yesterday flows back into my sleepy brain.

"I think he had to leave early for practice," Bella replies in an uninterested voice. I can imagine her sitting at the kitchen table and answering without looking up.

I'm thankful that she's not letting the girl know where I really am.

I'm not sure, but it's possible that Brittany – I suddenly remember her name clearly now – would make a scene about this. She hasn't given me her number, but she did stay over, so maybe she expects something more. Even though I've been clear last night that I was not looking for a girlfriend. She didn't mind back then, but you never know with women.

Bella could have put me in an awkward situation here. I'm surprised that she doesn't hate me after what I did to her.

Such an idiot I have been. Did I honestly expect her to push the girl away and claim me for her own?

She told me before that she has strong beliefs about deserving me. I should have known that making her jealous wouldn't solve all that. Instead I hurt her.

She didn't lash out at me, or blame me or push me away, but I saw what she did to herself, while I was busy trying to forget her. She must have heard everything.

It took me a long time to fall asleep after all that. She dozed off in my arms instantly, as I stroked her hair, wishing that I could make her see that she needs to stop fighting and simply be mine.

I guess I blew it big time now. How am I going to make her feel safe with me, when I hurt her carelessly like that?

At least, if anything positive should come from all this, I'm hoping she realizes that she doesn't want me to be with someone else after all, and she'll allow herself to get closer to me.

As soon as I hear Brittany leave the apartment, I gather my courage and step outside Bella's room. She sits at the kitchen table and doesn't look up.

I carefully take a seat next to her, thinking of a way to bring up what I need to say. But before I find my words, she suddenly gets up and mutters, "I'm gonna take a shower."

So that's how it's gonna be. She's back to avoiding me after sleeping in my arms.

I can't take that. Anything but this distant version.

"Bella, no," I plead, grabbing her arm to keep her here. I immediately let go when she winces and I remember the bandages I put on her myself.

She looks at me with sad eyes, and reluctantly sits down again.

"What do you want, Jacob?"

"I want to talk. I want to apologize."

"What do you want _from me_?" she clarifies her question.

"I… anything but this," I say.

She shakes her head. "This is all I know how to be. I never pretended to be better than this."

"No, you don't understand. I don't need you to be better. I just need you to be real. Be honest with me. Scream if you're mad, shout at me, punch me, I know I deserve it. But don't run away."

"I don't want to scream, I'm not mad at you."

"Let me guess, you're mad at you, right?"

She nods and stares at her hands.

"Is that why you hurt yourself?" I ask.

She looks up at me with surprise, as if she didn't expect me to bring that up. But she doesn't seem upset.

"Not exactly," she replies hesitantly.

"Could you please explain to me then? If it's not anger that made you do this, then what is it?"

"I'm not sure I can talk about it," she mutters, looking down again. "You must really think I'm a freak."

I move my chair closer to her and gently place my arm around her shoulder.

"I really don't. I always knew you are not like other girls, and I once called you a freak, but Bella, I never believed that. And I never will, no matter what you tell me."

She huffs, as if she knows better, but I need her to understand this, so I continue, "I promise Bella. Look, I am well aware that there are many things I don't know about you, and maybe I never will, but I do know _you_. I just wish you would trust me some more."

"It's not about trust," she objects.

"Yes it is. If you really think I'm gonna judge you for acting the way you did. After the stuff I made you go through…"

She shrugs.

"I hurt you, didn't I? Being wit her, it hurt you."

She takes a deep breath and then said, "Jacob, I can't… you and me, we can't."

"That's not what I asked."

"Oh," she replies, and then slowly nods, "yes, it hurt. I know that it shouldn't, but it did."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Is that why you cut? Because you were hurting?"

"Yes," she admits, "in a way. It's difficult to explain. Sometimes when things get too much, when I feel like I can't handle a situation, it gives me… pleasure. But not like SM, not that kind of pleasure. Just, um… I don't know, it just feels right, in a way."

"Like a distraction from the other pain?" I try to understand.

"That too. Maybe it's something chemical, I don't know."

"Maybe," I agree.

My arm is still around her and I pull her a little closer to me. I feel like thanking her for being so open with me, but at the same time I'm afraid she'll close off again any moment.

At first, she places her head on my shoulder and breathes in my scent, but then she leans back and says "you need to move on, Jacob. You deserve a girl without issues."

"Didn't we just agree that you don't want me to be with someone else?" I ask confused. I thought we dealt with this already. But it's the same thing all over again.

"It's not about what I want. I can never give you enough."

"Who says I can give you everything? If you really care for someone, you simply want them to have nothing but the best. But looking at things from that perspective, there is always some reason to feel not good enough."

"These aren't details," she mutters. "I'm not talking about not being very rich, or being a little over-weighed. This is serious stuff."

"I know that darling, I know you are struggling, but that only makes me want to be closer to you. Can you please let me decide when something isn't enough, when I deserve more?"

She shakes her head.

"Why not?"

"Because by the time you will realize this, I'll be too lost. It's better if we cut this off right now."

"What if right now, I am too lost?"

"Oh Jacob," she sighs, leaning into me again.

I hate to put her on the spot like this, but there are some major flaws in her reasoning, and I wish she would see that.

"How about," I say carefully, "we don't make any promises and we take things one day at the time. Without worrying about the future. I won't call you my girlfriend, if that makes you feel uncomfortable, but I promise I won't be with anyone else. There's only you, Bella."

She opens her mouth to object, so I quickly add, "and there is nothing you can say or do about that. All you get to decide is how close you allow yourself to be. Not my feelings, you don't get to decide those."

She slowly nods and relaxes again.

I can't help but smile. I feel like I've finally gotten through to her. At least on this point. And we'll figure out the rest later.

* * *

><p>In the week to follow, I don't push her anymore.<p>

I keep a close watch on her arm, and notice how the scars are healing without new cuts marking her skin. We don't talk about that evening, and I continue to avoid the female attention, the way I did before I came up with that stupid plan. She seems to have forgiven me, for which I'm thankful.

And then finally the day arrives when she gets into my car and we both drive to work together.

I join the rest of the team, while she meets up with the manger.

An hour or so later, I'm probably even more nervous than she is, when Peter enters the cardio workout room. She follows him inside, wearing a sporty team outfit, still looking incredibly sexy to me.

I miss most of Peter's introduction, staring at her and the confident attitude she shows. She seems so open, all friendly smiles, I hardly recognize the shy Bella anymore. I guess doing that act is part of her job, and she performs well.

I'm actually glad. The guys would give her a hard time if they thought she was a fragile sweet student.

Peter explains that today, she'll be working with the injured players first, including me and Paul, who hurt his ankle during practice yesterday.

When I hear Jared ask "hey Miss, do you give happy endings as well?", I nearly jump to attack him, but Bella surprises me by smiling at him and saying "never before game day, I wouldn't want you to strain something."

She then turns around to walk towards her massage room, leaving us dumbfounded.

Paul is the first to start laughing and we all follow. He pats my shoulder and says "that's so bad-ass." He looks like he wants to say more, but then he remains quiet. We both agreed that my relation to Bella would stay between us.

All the guys were allowed to know is that she's my childhood friend and roommate. Nothing else.

During lunch however, he takes his seat across from me and looks at me pointedly.

"What?" I ask, still chewing my meat.

"Nothing," he says, but then grins.

"What?" I ask again, a little more impatient.

"You've got good taste. She's a total hottie. And her hands, my god,…" he rolls his eyes.

I can't help but feeling a little jealous. He's already had his massage and I'm dying to find out how it went, but at the same time, I don't want to know that she's touching them. Even though it's her job and I'm gonna have to get used to it.

So I casually ask "better than mister Reed?" He's our regular physiologist.

"Hell yeah," he laughs out loud, "better than Melissa even."

I nearly gasp. Melissa is a girl Paul has sex with frequently, and he goes on and on about her special talents.

"How do you mean?" I ask, a little confused.

"Don't worry, man, she hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. I just can tell, by the way she touches. I hope Peter gives her a job after this internship. What time are you scheduled?"

"Right after lunch," I say, a little curious now. I want nothing more than to feel Bella's hands on me, but I really wanted them to touch me at home, not here. Not in the same way she touches them all.

And I also still remember how she thought it would be weird. I'll need to be professional. Not let her notice any of my feelings.

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later, I'm lying on the massage table, my heart beating furiously in my chest. She turns around, holding a bottle with oil, and walks over to me.<p>

With a chuckle she says "you look like you're about to see a dentist."

I laugh nervously and ask her apprehensively, "will you find this weird?"

She shrugs and says, "I know I was concerned, but I think I'll be fine. You're more anxious than I am. We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I do," I answer quickly, knowing that refusing now would only add to the weirdness, and she nods.

"Just close your eyes and talk to me. What did the guys say about me?"

She starts massaging my calves and our conversations flows.

She talks about her first day, and the way the players were all friendly and making her feel at ease. Her touch is professional, and I shouldn't have worried so much about my response. The atmosphere never feels as intimate as during the hand massage she gave me once in our couch, and before I know it, out time is up.

In the afternoon, we have a field training, while she works with Jared, who is still too injured to join the rest of the team. I hope he's behaving better than he did this morning, but I'm sure he is. Guys like him are always a bit tougher when they're surrounded by friends.

That evening, she waits for me so we can drive home together. We prepare dinner and talk about day.

It feels so perfect, I could get used to this.

And along with Paul, I hope that Peter will offer her a full time job after she graduates.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So Bella is becoming more open, but there is still so much Jacob doesn't know. How do you think he'll respond when he finds out about Peter?<strong>


	10. Chapter 10 Fly Away From Here

_**AN: I'm sorry for the long wait, December has been crazy, with exams and the holidays. But I'm back with a long chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it!**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: Fly away from here<strong>

Life is changing. I am changing.

I'm starting to doubt some things I used to be sure of and starting to hope for things I never thought I could have. And it's all thanks to Jacob.

We're driving the car to work, like we do every day. He's humming along with the radio and I can't help but smile. I won't go as far as saying I'm happy, but he is and it's a little contagious.

The job has given me a new perspective on my future as well. I really like the work, helping people get better, and I love being part of a team. After just one month, I'm one of them. Cheering them on by the sidelines, and cheering them up when they lose. Which doesn't happen that much these days. The atmosphere is great and at the moment and I feel like I could actually do this. Have a real job, a decent job.

As promised, Peter is paying me more than an intern should be paid. I no longer need to roam pubs for extra clients. In fact, the last few weeks, Peter has been my only client. Maybe that's why he's giving me so much money in the first place. To keep me close to him, to make me depend on him alone. But he's being nice and undemanding, so at the moment, I don't mind.

Jacob also likes my paycheck, because it keeps me from going out at night. Our evenings have been… romantic almost. He seems to have accepted that I don't want to get any closer than this, and doesn't pry for answers anymore. I suppose he's glad I'm not freaked out by being near him every day. It's like we're back in high school, being best friends again.

Or maybe he's just happy, content.

"It's gonna happen tonight," Jacob suddenly says when waiting at the stop light, waking me up from my thoughts.

"Huh?" I ask puzzled.

"I'm gonna score," he explains, but when I keep watching him in confusion, he adds "the game, Bella!"

"Oh right," I mumble, a little ashamed that I was too preoccupied to forget about that.

He chuckles and says "thanks a lot, some supporter you are. You are coming right?"

"Of course, front row, as usual," I reassure him.

The best part of this job is witnessing the epic "comeback of Jacob Black". After his first game, the press was still hesitant. They usually are. The newspapers doubted that he'd ever reach his previous level, from before the injury. But Jacob never stopped being cheerful. He was so happy to be back out on the field that he didn't care what they wrote.

After the second and third game, nobody doubted him anymore. He's back to being so popular he's bringing home fan mail every day. Only Jared Cameron is more popular than him, and he's their biggest star player for years.

That Jared has been creeping me out a little ever since the day I started. He keeps acting as if it's only a matter of time until I give in to his extra wishes, just because he is the famous Jared Cameron.

Usually, I try to joke my way out of awkward situations. With anyone else, I would simply say they couldn't afford me, but Jared is filthy rich and could buy every house in the country, so money wouldn't be an issue. I once asked him why he won't let one of his fans help him out. He simply replied that he does, but he prefers his preys hard-to-get.

Maybe if this would have happened a few months ago, I would have given in. Take the money, and get it over with.

But not now. I don't need the money and I'm really liking this job. If Peter ever found out I'm giving my services to the players, he'd fire me for sure.

And then there is Jacob. Jared is exactly the kind of guy to kiss and tell, so Jacob would hear about it and be devastated.

Now I think about it, I don't believe I would have done it a few months ago either. Jared simply freaks me out. His confidence intimidates me and more than once I've let my attitude fall around him, and allowed him to see that I'm actually a little scared. When nice men would try to reassure a nervous girl, he never did. He actually enjoyed my discomfort, which is a bad sign. And the worst part is, since he's the big star, he gets extra physiotherapy, after every field training and every game.

I'm lucky today though. He's so focused on the game that he's simply laying back, eyes closed, ear plugs in place, listening to his music. To my relief, he pays no attention to me or my cleavage.

There's no practice in the afternoon, the players rest in the lounge room. Some of them, including Jared, listen to music, but most of them, including Jacob, play games to relax.

I meet up with Peter to talk about the results of the player's physical tests and then I get to give him an examination as well. I don't mind these extras. his gratitude, both financial and emotional, are a nice reward.

But I do mind how complicated my life has become. These days, I hate lying to Jacob more and more. We have become closer than ever, I fall asleep in his arms almost daily and I stopped objecting when sometimes he gets under the covers with me after tucking me in, to hold me in my sleep.

It makes me feel safe. A feeling I no longer dread. It makes me feel like maybe, when some day I get my act together, he and I might work. Even though I still have my list of reasons why it shouldn't, it feels like it could. I could fly away from here in the arms of an angel.

But then there's reality. My past, my activities, Peter…

The storm keeps on twisting, I keep on building the lies, that I make up for all that I lack. I can forgive myself for not telling him about my past. It is the past after all. And maybe even for the stuff I'm doing with Peter. Jacob and me are not a couple, even though I know my behavior would break his heart.

What hurts me most if the fact that I can never open up completely. I can never tell him about the shame I feel, or the way I worry about my future and my income. I can't share with him how I'm afraid I won't know how to stop, even if I didn't need the money. This is all I know. My deepest wishes and fears, they all remain hidden, when he shares everything with me. It kills me.

That's the reason why even on perfect days like this, I can't be happy. I probably never will.

After Peter is finished, the whole team has dinner together and then start going over game tactics.

Right before warm-up, Jacob walks over to me and gives me his most beautiful smile.

"I'm going to dedicate the goal to you."

I smile and reply "you are quite confident are you?"

Since Jacob is a defender, he doesn't score that often, so I wonder how he can be so sure.

"Of course," he beams, "Hear me out. I know you won't like me making a scene and put you in the spotlight, but after I score I'll point at the public, at nowhere in particular, and I need you to know that it's for you."

"Okay," I smile back.

He grabs hold of me and pulls me into a hug, then places both his hands on my shoulders and leans back, scanning my face for something. I'm surprised when I feel his lips on mine. After that one kiss back home, where I completely freaked out, he never tried anything like this anymore. Before I get a chance to respond however, he's gone, running towards the team mates who call out to him and nearly caught us.

I take a seat in the box and try not to over think the moment we just shared. I'm sure it was just his excitement about the game.

The crowd is excited as well. If we win this one, we'll be leading the ranking, which hasn't happened in years. And the enthusiastic people get rewarded by an early goal from Jared. The crowd goes insane, shouting his name. "Jared Cameron, he's our number one!"

Jacob is playing a perfect game so far, but somehow, about an hour into the game, 1-1 is on the score board. Disappointment flows through the arena, but the players and the fans keep their heads up. They keep cheering, still hoping for that victory.

As time runs out, the atmosphere becomes more heated, as if the last desperate shouts could actually make a difference, out there on the field. And maybe it does. I can tell that some of the players are really tired, but they keep fighting for every meter, like the true heroes they are.

And then it happens.

As in slow motion, I see Jacob taking a long shot. I glance over at the other goalkeeper, who is standing too far into the field. His shot is perfect, too high for the goalie to reach, and slowly falling right behind him. When the ball hits the ground and bounces into the net, it takes the crowd one second to release that breath and erupt into a roar of joy.

Right before Jacob is tackled by his team mates for a massive group hug, he lifts his arm and points his finger up towards the screaming fans. My heart swells and I jump up as well, hugging the people surrounding me, even the ones I never talked to before.

Soon after that, the referee ends the game and the supporters go crazy. In between the "we are the champion" chants, all praise is for Jacob. His name is scanned over and over, long after the game is finished.

I'm waiting in the massage room for Jared to arrive, and when he finally gets there, I notice that he's not in a cheerful mood as I expected. We can still hear the partying fans shout for Jacob and he rolls his eyes.

So he's jealous. He's so petty that he can't even be happy for his team mate when they score.

I start working, but he keeps complaining that I'm doing it wrong and that I might injure him instead of preventing injury. I hate to let him ruin my good mood, but his attitude is getting to me.

At last, I lash out and say, "fine, if I'm so crappy, go find yourself another physio then."

I wipe my hands on a cloth and prepare to walk out when his cold voice says, "Swan, get back here."

I ignore him and keep walking, but right before I get to the door, his strong hand grabs my arm and turn me around. I stare into his furious glare, and suddenly I remember Edward's iron grip.

Jared doesn't notice my terror and growls, "nobody turns their back on Jared Cameron. Especially not a slut like you."

I'm paralyzed with fear, but he takes my silence as defiance, which causes him to tighten his grip. Slowly he pushes me against the wall, his hard body against mine and I nearly faint in fright.

"It's your loss," he spits with a low voice, "I could be good for you."

When his free hand suddenly grabs between my legs, I wake up from my dazed state and my fist hits his face before he knows it.

"Fucking bitch," he shouts, releasing his grip to grab his bleeding nose. Right before he gets a chance to hit me back, I bolt for the door and run through the hallway. I curse when I notice the other players standing there, and rush my way past them.

"Bella," Jacob shouts, but I don't turn around and keep running, into the street. I was hoping to be alone, to get away from everything. But the streets are crowded with happy supporters finding their way towards some pub.

"Bella," Jacob repeats when he catches up with me, "what's wrong?"

I simply shake my head. I'm still trembling too much to talk, and I don't want him to know anyway.

How messed up I am, how the bastards of the world will always see me for what I really am. A slut.

I'm so tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn, there's vultures and thieves at your back.

"Bella, please," Jacob pleads. He grabs my sleeve and I stop running. I wouldn't know where to go anyway.

Instinctively, I throw myself against his chest and start sobbing while hiding my face. He wraps his arms around me and steers me back towards the arena.

"I don't want to go back," I manage in between sobs, but he reassures me, "just to my car, sweetie, I'll take you home."

He pulls his hoodie over his head, because people are starting to stare at us, wondering if it's really their hero right here on the street next to them.

When he opens the car door for me, I take a deep breath and say, "I'll wait right here. You shouldn't leave. This is your night." I try to smile to show him how happy I am for him.

"No way," he says. With clear determination he walks around the car and gets into the drivers seat, waiting for me to get in as well.

Reluctantly I agree, but I hate myself for it anyway. How can I ruin his big night like this?

The first minutes we pass in silence. He takes a small detour, away from the people who might recognize him. But then he finally speaks, "it was Jared, right?"

"How do you know?" I ask surprised.

He sighs and continues, "he's been a bit of an ass for weeks. Trying to place bets about how long it will take him to finally get that happy ending from you. I've been dying to punch his arrogant face, but I thought it was just macho talk. You never mentioned him being obnoxious, and the other players just laugh politely without joining in, so I just let him be…"

I can tell that he's feeling guilty about it, so I try to let him off the hook.

"It's not your fault."

"Yes it is. In a way, it is my fault. For some reason he hates my guts. Whenever he's talking about you, he makes sure that it's loud enough for me to hear. He knows he can get to me through you, and he's been trying to piss me off. And now he hurt you."

"He doesn't hate you, he feels threatened. He was in a bad mood because you scored, which in turn made me angry as well, because he should be glad the team won. That arrogant bastard."

"What happened?" Jacob asks.

"I tried to walk out on him. He was ruining my day and being a total jerk, so I told him to find someone else. Then he pushed me against the wall and tried to feel me up."

"So you punched him in the face?" Jacob suggest with hope in his voice.

I grin, "obviously".

"Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head, but in my mind I know that Jared broke me.

Just when I was starting to believe I might have a real life, a decent job, a future in which I could be somewhat normal, he made sure that my feet are back on the ground. I know my place again now and I should have never hoped for anything more.

I can tell by the way Jacob squeezes his steering wheel that his anger is difficult to control. I hope he won't try to defend my honor and end being suspended, now he's doing so well.

I place my hand on his arm and say, "he's not worth it."

"No, he's not," Jacob agrees, "but I'd still feel better if I can beat the crap out of him."

"Please don't do that, Jacob. I'd hate myself even more if you get into trouble. Just keep beating him on the field, that's the best way to get to him."

"But if he gets away with this, he'll keep being an ass."

"Doesn't matter," I say, "I'm not going back anyway."

"Don't say that, Bella, you are a great physio. You love that job, you are part of the team."

My silence is stubborn and he knows it.

"Don't make decisions now, Bella, sleep on it."

I nod, but I know that I won't change my mind on this.

When he parks the car, I try to convince him one last time to go back to celebrate his winning goal, but he refuses and calls Paul to explain with a fake excuse about me being sick.

"Are you hungry?" he asks with a worried expression.

I shake my head. I can't stand having dinner with him now, having a romantic night after that cheerful kiss he gave me earlier, knowing that I'm really just a whore in disguise

"I just want to go to sleep."

"Good," he nods, "I'll stay with you."

Even though I will know that I don't deserve his arms around him, I can't face the night alone either. So I don't object and walk into the bathroom. I resist the urge to smash the mirror with my sore hand, and try to listen to the phone call Jacob is making. He's talking quietly though, so I can't understand him. When I open the door, he quickly ends the conversation, and I don't ask. I simply walk to my bed and collapse. Without tears, and without hope.

The only warmth I let myself have is the warmth of Jacob's arms around me. In his arms, I fly away from here.

He lovingly holds me tight all night and whispers in my ear that everything will be alright.

But he's wrong.

It won't get any better.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Please share your thoughts. Are you still with me?<strong>_


	11. Chapter 11 Bullet

_**AN: Thanks so much for your lovely and insightful reviews. I love hearing your opinions and you point out things that I haven't thought about before. Very interesting, keep it up :) **_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11: Bullet<strong>

"Where is he?" my mind screams, as I walk into the fitness room, searching for a sign of Jared.

I've been able to keep my cool around Bella, knowing how she'd be upset if I'd do anything stupid. All through yesterday I tried to ignore my own rage, while trying to get Bella to leave her bed and do stuff, like getting dressed, and eat. She's been locked up inside herself and even though she never pushed me away, she's lost her fighting spirit.

The image of her depressed form, lying on her bed, when she was feeling so good lately, got stuck in my mind as I was driving to work today. Alone in my car: there's no way I could have convinced her to come along. It fed my rage up to a point where I'm ready now to destroy whatever is left of Jared's nose.

But unfortunately, I can't find him anywhere.

"There he is, our hero!" Paul shouts as he walks over to me.

Then he adds in a quiet voice, "How is Bella? Is she feeling any better?"

I suddenly remember that I lied to him about the reason she left so soon.

When I hesitate to reply, he gives me a knowing look and says, "she's not really ill, is she?"

I mutter, "I'm not sure how much I'm allow to say."

"We all saw her leave, Jacob, and we saw his bleeding nose right after. We can put two and two together. Is she here today?"

"Nope, she refuses to come back," I say with clear sadness.

"That jerk," Paul mutters, "you should tell Peter about it."

"I'm sure she doesn't want that."

"Fine, if you don't wanna be the bad guy, then I'll tell him. Somebody needs to. We could kick his ass until his pretty face will never look the same, but then we'll get suspended instead of him. The problem is that I don't know what happened, I can only say what he's been talking about and the stuff I saw after the game."

"He'll never get suspended anyway," I mutter, "he's Jared Cameron, remember?"

"Maybe. But if Bella doesn't come back because of what he did, the players will start to ask questions. What did he do, Jacob? Did he rape her?"

"No," I shake my head and ignore the new rage that hits me, just to think of what would have happened if Bella hadn't punched him. "But he might as well have. Bella has some trust issues with men. Let's just say her dad and brother weren't very nice to her and she's just starting to trust me. That's the reason why she broke his nose as soon as he touched her."

"Hmm, but he wanted to?" Paul asks.

"Maybe," I reply, and then remember how Bella said she always had a bad feeling about him, not just his stupid macho remarks, but the way he enjoyed her fear and liked to feel power over her. So I add, "probably."

"You _have_ to tell Peter," Paul concludes, and I know he's right.

I nod slowly.

"Do you want me to come along?"

"No, that's okay. I'll go right now."

* * *

><p>Half an hour later Peter and I walk into the work out room, where Peter explains to the other players that Jared is suspended for the time being.<p>

They all like to know the real story behind the rumors about Bella, but as he promised me, Peter remains discrete. He knows that the team will make up version of their own, but doesn't mind.

I expected him to make up excuses for Jared, to try and protect his big star, but when I told him what happened to Bella just now, he got furious. I've never seen Peter this mad.

Immediately, he got on the phone with Jared, who was in the waiting room of a famous doctor, specialized in broken noses.

Peter's voice sounded cold, but the anger was clear. He told Jared about his suspension and the conditions for return. Jared has to confess to the players what he did, apologize to Bella in front of the whole team, pay a huge penalty for both the club and Bella for suffered damage.

On top of that, he has to volunteer in a shelter for abused women, just so that he learns how to treat a woman, which is a basic form of respect, whether you are Jared Cameron or not. If he refuses to meet any of these conditions, he can go find another team to play for.

The only mercy Jared will get is that this story won't be shared with the media. That would put the whole team in a bad spotlight. We'll tell them he got injured during the game, which would explain his disappointed expression after the game was finished. Of course the press picked up on that and the newspapers wonder if maybe Jared wasn't happy for the team.

* * *

><p>The next days neither Jared nor Bella return.<p>

After Peter's press release, Jared is back to being a public hero, who finishes a game after getting injured without any sign of pain.

But I don't care what the papers write. I know it will be torture for him to lose his pride in front of the team mates, who pretty much hate him for hurting Bella, and he'll suffer when watching me play from the sidelines for weeks.

Maybe it's better if he never apologizes at all and finds a new place to go. I can't imagine Bella or the teammates to forgive him anyway.

At the moment, Jared isn't my biggest worry though.

Bella is.

She only eats what I prepare for her after I come home from practice, and when I call her during my lunch, she's still in bed, often asleep. I'm afraid that this fallback will result in a proper depression, much like the one that ruined our friendship when we were younger.

That is why I'm skipping the afternoon practice today with big plans to take her out to the movies. I need her to get out of the house and think of something else. I decide to not bring up her internship today. Just for one day, we'll pretend the team doesn't exist.

When walking up the stairs, I prepare myself for a big effort in convincing her to get out of bed and dress up for a date.

But when I walk in, I find her fully dressed on the couch, next to Peter, who has one of his arms around her shoulder.

I instantly know something is going on.

I can't point out what tips me off right away, but I just know it.

It's not as if they are doing something wrong or as if he has no right to be here. I saw for myself how upset Peter was that one of his players hurt his intern. He feels responsible and he's been trying to figure out a way to get her to finish the internship without running into Jared. It makes sense that he comes to visit her, and explain that he wants to help her feel comfortable in the team again. I also notice the card he brought, a "get well soon" card signed by all the players.

No, him being here isn't a surprise.

And it's not as if she's holding him or leaning in; his arm is simply there. Or as if the light is back in her eyes now he is here. Apart from being dressed, she looks just as sad as she did all week.

The thing that isn't right about this situation is that Bella allows him to touch her in the first place.

There is no distance between them on the couch, and I know how difficult it is for her to let men near, especially now. She looks like she trusts him.

And the other thing bothering me is her taking a little more distance and looking at the floor when I walk in, as if she's ashamed.

She's hiding something.

She's hiding many things, I knew that, but I didn't think it would be Peter.

It just took me one second to figure all this out, and the next thought popping into my head is what a fool I've been making of myself. Loving her the way I do, when she and him…

Before I can think of an explanation for this, and start to wonder if she lied when she said I was the only one she ever kissed, Peter gets up and talks.

"Hi, Jacob, I've made an arrangement with Bella about her internship with us."

If he is at all surprised or uncomfortable about me returning home early, he doesn't show it. I fight the urge to push him out the door or bolt myself, and force myself to act my part. The part of the friend and concerned roommate.

Nothing more.

I look at Bella who is still staring at her feet.

"Are you coming back?"

She nods and Peter replies in her place, "we'll start by just returning, being part of the team and being around us, without any physiotherapy just yet. The players feel like she should be around, now we're on number one. When one of us is injured, and can't practice, we don't stay home either."

He continues his speech, which I'm sure he prepared well, in the exact same words he used to convince her.

"As soon as she feels comfortable again, she can resume the therapy. Jared stays suspended until the end of the internship in a month, and after that, if she likes a position with us, we'll make sure she never has to work with him again."

"That's, um, that's great, sounds good."

At this Peter gets up from the couch and takes his coat from the coffee table.

"I'll leave you two then…" he hesitates and looks at Bella as if he wants to add something and then simply mumbles, "see you tomorrow."

I'm still frozen in place so he lets himself out.

When a minute later, Bella and me are still un-moving, she mutters, "I never planned to go back, but he said he's been meaning to offer me a permanent position, so I guess I have to think about my future."

It sounds almost like an apology, as if I wouldn't be glad that she's returning.

All the while, she still hasn't looked up, and I'm even more sure now that she's hiding something.

But I've been foolish enough. I won't ask her.

I simply reply, "you're right. I'm happy that you're coming back."

I can't stand to be near her any longer, so I'm looking for an excuse to go back to work. I actually regret coming home to check in on her in the first place. For all I know they're both cursing about me interrupting their private meeting.

I'm surprised when Bella suddenly stands next to me, this time looking for eye contact.

"It's not what you think," she whispers.

A little louder than I intend to, I answer, "how would you know what I think?"

"I know you Jacob, and I know what it looks like, from your perspective." She then sighs and whispers, "it's probably way worse."

"I don't believe I want to know," I answer and rush out of the door.

When I get into my car, I realize I don't want to go back and risk running into him. So I just wait there, undecided.

Until I get a text from her.

"Can you at least let me explain so that you know what you're angry about?"

She makes a good point, but I still don't want to hear it. She'll break my heart.

And still. There's so many questions.

About an hour later, I reluctantly walk back up the stairs, like a convicted on death row.

She will crush me, but I'm ready. I'll need the answers eventually anyway, and I'm no longer being foolish.

I knew she'd been hiding things from me, but I could live with that, as long as she wasn't sharing her secrets with someone else.

As long as she wasn't flat out lying to me.

Things have changed now. No matter what her explanation will be, I won't be foolish again.

When I open the door, I find her in the same spot I left her in. She's shivering and I have to keep myself from holding her and warm her up.

Not this time.

I close the door behind me, lean against it, with my eyes closed, ready for the bullet and order, "go ahead."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Sorry about the cliffhanger. How do you think he'll respond? <strong>_


	12. Chapter 12 Truth

**Chapter 12: Truth**

I've already lost him. I can tell by the coldness in his eyes when he looks at me. Just like that, I lost my Jacob.

I don't regret not telling him sooner. I would do anything to keep him from getting hurt like this.

But when he walked into the room, and saw Peter sit next to me, he understood. Not everything, but he knew.

It was like I could feel his heart break right there, as mine broke as well.

And now all there is left to do is finish the job. Break him completely.

Not because it would make things easier, but because maybe, in a few years from now, he'll understand and stop hating me.

If only I knew how to begin. How to confess one of my biggest shames, to a man who's already shut me out.

When I keep quiet for too long, his harsh voice nearly makes me jump when he says "go on!"

I know he's just scared, but so am I.

At last, I take a deep breath and with a cracked voice I start, "he's not my boyfriend. I, um, I met him about a year ago, in college. He gave a lecture about the new advances is physiology tests. I knew him before I moved here."

This surprises him, as he opens his eyes to look in my direction.

I notice a flash of hope, and I can read his mind. For one second he believes that maybe he was mistaken and me and Peter are just friends.

But that wouldn't explain why I never told him, why I acted so busted and why I told him earlier that the truth is worse than he imagines.

He realizes this too, and his eyes close again.

"He's not a friend either," I confess.

"Then what is he?" Jacob asks.

"He's… I don't know any other way than to say this, but he's one of my clients."

Again he looks at me, confused, "a client?"

"You know I told you about the massages I give, as a practice. They're not just massages. I guess you could call them happy endings."

Jacob lets out a long breath and then whispers, "you've been giving Peter happy endings?"

I nod, even though he can't see me, but he knows.

"For how long?"

"For as long as I know him."

"Wait a second, you say _one_ of your clients, so there's more?"

Again I nod, and he looks at me again.

There's no disgust on his face. Yet.

Just disbelief. He looks like he has difficulty catching his breath and I'd give anything in the world to just be the sweet fragile Bella in his eyes again, for just one second. To see that adoration, even though I never deserved it.

"What else?" he grumbles.

"What do you mean?"

"Besides happy endings. What else? Are you a…"

He can't say the word, but I know what he means.

"No. Just happy endings."

I want to add that he's still the only one I ever kissed, but that won't do any good now. Because I lied about pretty much everything else.

Slowly his knees get weaker and he clumsily sits down against the door, his hands in his hair.

I wish I could comfort him, or apologize, but I know he won't allow it. I wouldn't either.

His back shakes, but he doesn't make a sound.

After the longest time, he finally whispers, "why?"

"Because I needed the money."

"For what? You have nothing."

"To pay the rent, Jacob."

"But your parents…" He sighs, "your parents aren't paying the rent, are they?"

"No, I haven't talked to my parents in years. They don't know where I am."

"Fuck, Bella, why didn't you tell me, I could have helped out."

"I've been doing this ever since I got out of high school. I ran away from home with literally nothing. First I needed a place to stay, so some clients offered me that, and when I saved enough to pay a deposit, I did it to pay the bills. Long before you got back into my life. Not just for this apartment. I also saved money for college."

"There's other ways to get money," he says, but his voice sounds weaker. He knows that he doesn't really understand the life on the street.

"I know. Social services. But I got kicked out. They gave up on me."

Jacob looks back up, his cheeks wet with silent tears. He still doesn't hate me, he's just struggling to understand, which makes him even more amazing than he already was.

"I didn't know social services could do that, give up on people."

"I didn't play by their rules. They wanted me to get into therapy. About my past. But I kept dropping out. They wanted me to stop seeing clients, which was fair, because they paid me. But I couldn't. I guess it's not just for the money. I, um, I believe this is the only thing I'm really good at. When I'm with clients, they give me attention and I don't feel worthless."

At this, new tears escape his sad eyes. "I give you attention," he whispers.

I can't stay motionless anymore. I sit down next to him and crawl closer, grateful that he doesn't push me away.

"I know, and you helped me on so many levels. I'm not seeing other clients anymore. For the first time in years I was starting to believe that I could do without, because of you."

"Except for Peter," he mutters.

"Peter… he has been kind. It doesn't feel like he's using me. It's more like a business deal. He pays my rent, he offered me a place on the team and now he even offered me a job after I graduate."

"He is using you, too. Shit, Bella, can't you see? He's making you depend on him so he can have his way with you. If he really cared about you, don't you think he'd offer those things without getting something return?"

"He _would_ have given me more, but I never wanted to accept it."

"Because you don't deserve it, right?" he states sarcastically.

"Yes, and because I don't have any feelings for him."

"So he has feelings for you now?"

My cheeks brighten when I murmur, "I think so."

"Great."

After that, we both stay quiet for a long time. My back is starting to hurt, but I don't want to move away from this place. It might be the last time I can be this close to him, close enough to smell his shower gel and feel his warmth.

Eventually I begin with a sigh, "I told you…"

But Jacob cuts me off instantly. "Don't tell me I told you so, or I'll get mad."

A little taken aback I mutter, "I just hope you understand now why I couldn't be with you."

"Not because you don't deserve me," he answers. "Don't go using this as another reason to bring yourself down. Sure I'm hurt and very disappointed and I feel like a complete and utter fool, but not because you saw no other way to survive. I can understand that part. Hell, I probably would have even accepted it. What I don't understand is why you had to lie to me about it. That part is killing me. Me, stupid lovesick man, telling you all my dreams and you having this secret life and lying to my face, like every single day. I just…." he shakes his head without finishing the sentence.

"I'm sorry." The apology escapes anyway, even though I still stand by my decision to hide it. Seeing how hurt he is now only proves that I should have tried harder to keep hiding it.

"Why, Bella? Why'd you lie?"

I expected this question, so I have my answer ready.

"Before you came back into my life, all I could do was hate myself. But then you came, and you looked at me like maybe I'm an angel underneath, innocent and sweet. I knew it was a wrong image, but still, when I was around you, I wasn't so bad anymore. I guess I was selfish. I wanted you to keep seeing me like that. And I didn't think it would matter so much, didn't think we'd be this close again."

"Yeah, I get that you didn't tell me at first, but there's a difference between not sharing the whole truth and flat out lying. Especially when we became friends."

"I know. But by the time that difference became clear, I already felt that you had feelings for me. I didn't want to hurt you. I thought I was protecting you from me."

He just huffs and I continue, "by the time I finally realized I was in love with you, it was too late. I knew I could never be with you because of all the lies. You were already too close, and I had lied too much."

"So you were just gonna continue and never tell me anything?"

"No," I try to defend myself. "Well, yeah, at first that was the plan. But lately, I was dreaming about a future. I thought if I had a real job, I could leave all this stuff behind, and I figured, if it's in the past, it will be easier to come clean."

Suddenly Jacob looks up at me with wide eyes. "Hold on a second, you said you were in love with me?"

"Yeah," I whisper, looking down.

"Jeezus, Bella," he exhales. "That is so not how I wanted to hear about that."

"You weren't supposed to hear about it anyway," I say.

"Then why tell me now? That is so unfair. What a fucking mess." He still doesn't look angry, in fact, he's almost laughing at this miserable situation. But I know he's close to getting up and walking out of that door.

"I'm sorry," is all I can say.

I want to hold on to him, beg him to stay near. Want to cry in his arms and confess that I need him, that I can't live without him. But he's right, it is unfair. It would be all he's been needing to hear for months, and I can't throw myself at him now, now I've broken his heart.

I take a deep breath and then mutter, "I'll go pack my stuff."

"What do you mean," he asks, suddenly serious again.

"I'll move out, I'll find a new place."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella. You staying here never depended on you being mine, or being truthful even. I would have preferred it, sure, but this is your home too. Unconditionally."

"But you probably don't want to see me anymore?" I ask confused.

"Maybe," he answers. "I'll need some time to be around you again. I don't know if I can ever be close to you again, or ever trust you again. But who knows, maybe things will get easier now my eyes are opened."

Hearing him talk about us like that, casually, as if he's finally rid of those unwanted feelings, it hurts me so much that the tears are starting to roll over my cheeks. This is the second time I lose his friendship, and I'm afraid this time there's no coming back.

He looks at me and reaches out his hand towards my face, possibly to wipe away the tears, but his hand strands in midair before falling back on his lap.

No, he's not going to comfort me now. I wouldn't allow him anyway.

Instead he gets up, and as I expected, he walks out of the door before I can beg him to stay.

If I were richer, I'd take my stuff and go right now. To spare both him and me the hurt of being forced to face what's lost. But I have no place to go and I'm lucky he's not kicking me out.

Instead, I lock myself up in my room, much like I have all week, and I cry my eyes out. Knowing that tonight, there won't be two warm arms to hold me and whisper to me that things will be alright.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm sorry I've hurt them both, but this was bound to happen, the truth had to come out somehow. What do you think about Jacob's response? <strong>


	13. Chapter 13 More Than Ever

**Chapter 13: More than ever**

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><p>It's been three weeks now and slowly life is becoming easier again.<p>

I never meant to ignore her, but we haven't seen each other much those weeks. I think she's trying to avoid me.

I have no idea how she's doing and at the moment, that's probably for the best. It's not as if I don't care. I do care. It just hurts too much to think of her.

She doesn't get out of bed much, doesn't eat much, but in contrast to that, she leaves the house regularly and I really don't want to know where she's going. I don't ask and she doesn't tell.

Sometimes she leaves me meals that she prepared. As a favor to her, I eat them, but I'd rather not because it reminds me of the many romantic nights we shared here.

The only thing I can do at the moment is focus on my career. I train as hard as I can, focus as much and I can and I feel myself getting fitter every day.

Bella hasn't been back to work, despite her arrangement with Peter, and neither has Jared. Because we lost the game against last year's champion a week ago, we're back to being second in the ranking, but we're still happy about that, because our games are good and we get a decent level. We just got unlucky last week. It happens.

Tonight, there's another game and we are only looking ahead now.

When we're all sitting in the lounge, relaxing and gaming, Peter suddenly appears and asks, "Jacob, can I have a word with you, please?"

Peter I _have_ been avoiding. And I've done a good job at it too, because I've never been in the same room with him since I saw him leave my apartment.

What could he possibly want from me?

Reluctantly I get up and follow him to his office. He politely offers me the seat across his desk, but I refuse. My mind is already wondering how many times she had her hands on him, right here in this office.

"How is Bella doing?" Peter asks, as casual as possible. Still I notice that he's nervous about asking.

He probably knows what happened between me and her, probably knows that he broke my heart. Did they talk about me before or after his happy endings? Did he inwardly laugh at my foolishness?

I don't answer and just stare at him. How dare he ask me about Bella?

With a cold voice I reply, "I don't know, why don't you ask her?"

"She doesn't answer my calls. She hasn't in weeks. I thought you knew."

When I simply stare at him, he continues, "that night I came over she called me up and told me that you found out and that she can't see me anymore."

"I see," I mutter.

"I, um, I'm really sorry, Jacob. I knew you liked her, and you're a great guy, but I like her too. I guess I thought I had a chance."

"That makes two of us," I murmur.

"Are you mad at her because of me?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with you. And I don't know why Bella isn't talking to you. I haven't told her to stop. So can I go again now?"

"I'm just worried about her. I respect her choice to not see me anymore, but… she's not the most stable girl. She must be devastated, losing two of her friends, having no income and now she's risking the internship as well. Her chance for a job."

"She had a job," I say, "you saw to that."

Peter rubs his hand over his eyes and then sighs.

"I know what it must look like, and I'm probably not innocent. But I can promise you I wanted nothing but the best for her. I encouraged her to continue her education, on the times she felt like quitting. Would I have done that if I needed her to depend on me? I wanted to offer her so much, but she wouldn't accept it. Unless she was able to give me something in return. It was never what I really wanted from her."

"You shouldn't have agreed. Not with the way she sees men, with her past."

"What about that? I don't know anything about her past."

"No, I guess not," I reply.

I don't really know about her past either, but I have a strong feeling that her father and brother beat her repeatedly.

She never told me anything about this, but I've been wondering about the bruises she kept showing, and the trust issues she has with men. Especially men that come close to her, like Jared did.

Whenever she showed up in my room, back when we were kids, she seemed cheerful enough, but there has to be a reason why she felt like escaping home on so many occasions. And there has to be a reason why she broke off contact with her parents. So that's why I believe they were violent with her.

"Anyways," Peter says, "I'm her past too now, I know that. She's never felt anything about me, that was just my dreams. But I still care about her and I'm afraid she might do something stupid."

"She's lived through worse," I say, but I'm not sure if that is actually true. I know that Peter is right to worry. When life was worse for her, she did try to commit suicide. And her disappointment must be so much higher, now she was finally starting to get hope.

I sigh, "I'll talk to her."

"Thank you, Jacob."

When I get back to the lounge room, I don't feel like playing games anymore. Instead I plug in my music and it takes me a long time to be focused on the game again.

We end up playing a brilliant match, all of us.

Time is almost up and we're leading three to one, when the referee gives the other team's goalie a red card for tackling our attacker. We get a penalty and the crowd starts to shout my name. Paul is our usual penalty guy, but now we're leading and the game is almost finished, the players don't mind giving the crowd their way.

I get a little nervous, but the replacing goalie looks even more anxious and I know that I can do it.

"Careful who you point at," Paul says, while wishing me luck one last time.

Four weeks ago, after I scored, I pointed at nowhere in particular, after I told Bella I would dedicate my goal to her. The camera crew tried their hardest to figure out who exactly I was pointing at, but they didn't find the right person. Ever since, they've been hoping for me to do it again, so they can figure it out.

That is why, after I score our fourth goal of the evening, I run to the sidelines and lift my finger towards the crowd.

And then I see her.

Bella is standing right there, hiding in between the dancing supporters.

Our eyes lock, but my team mates catch up with me and tackle me to the ground in joy.

By the time I get up again, she's gone. But the image of Bella standing there, it stays with me the rest of the night.

And it's a long night. For today, we're number one again, because the leading team will only play tomorrow, so that has to be celebrated.

I'm so tired by the time I get home, that I nearly walk past her. The lights are out, but she's still in the couch.

"Oh, uh, hi," I stutter.

"Good game," she simply says.

"Thanks. How did you get there?" I ask, and I immediately regret it because I'm afraid it would be one of her clients. No matter what Peter told me earlier tonight.

"I walked there."

"That's like a forty minute walk?"

"I know. But I didn't want to miss it."

"Where you there two weeks ago as well?"

"Yeah."

"I could have given you a lift," I say, but I understand why she didn't ask me.

"That's alright. I needed the fresh air anyway. A long walk is the perfect time to think."

I almost ask what she was thinking about, but I hold my tongue.

Instead I hesitate whether or not to keep talking or disappear into my room for a long sleep like I intended to.

She suddenly says, as an answer to my unspoken question, "I'm in therapy."

"Oh," is all I manage.

"Yeah. In case you wonder where I keep going to, if I'm not doing the internship."

"That's not my business."

"Still, I wanted you to know."

I'm grateful that she told me, but I won't say that. And I won't ask her all the questions that pop into my head. Like what is the therapy for? Is she working on her self esteem? Is she trying to get rid of her addiction to get men off? Or is she talking about her violent past, her relationship with her father and brother?

Instead I ask something else, a legitimate question, but a mean one nevertheless.

"How are you paying for that?"

"Social services," she explains, "I went back. I want to make things right. I can't live like this anymore. I hate therapy and I hate what it does to me, but I hate myself even more without it."

I'm not sure what to do with this personal confession, not when we haven't really been talking at all.

"That's, um, that good for you. I hope it helps."

I can tell that she's taken aback by my impersonal remarks, and I wish I could just forget about the way she hurt me.

But I'm afraid I'll do something stupid.

The thing is, ever since she told me that she's in love with me too, the hurt isn't the only thing that's on my mind.

I hate to be so weak, but there's this spark inside me, that still says "maybe". After all the lies she's told me, I still love her and it's pathetic.

At night, when I'm not strong anymore, I imagine little stories about making things right with her. She would for instance tell me that losing me made her realize holding back is stupid and beg me to take her back, as a girlfriend this time. I know it's silly and during the day I'm ashamed about it, but it's a comfortable little dream world.

I'm afraid I'll try to make it real as soon as I'm close to her again. But in this world, the lies still exist.

Just when I'm about to move towards my room, I notice in the dark that she's crying.

I immediately forget about my fear and sit down next to her. I don't hold her but I say, "I think it's very brave that you want to try therapy again. How is it going?"

"It's horrible," she sobs, "I feel like I'm fucking crying all day. I never used to be like this."

"Hmm. I guess that's the healing?" I try.

"It doesn't feel like healing. But I have to stick with it. Social services only agreed to pay part of my rent if I followed that therapy. I signed their papers and if I drop out, I'll be in debt. I'm no longer… doing that other thing."

"I know," I say, "I talked to Peter today."

"You have? Oh fuck, I totally forgot about him. Another one I hurt."

"He's doing fine."

"Yeah?" she asks, while looking up at me with those big eyes.

How can a girl so damaged still seem so innocent? Maybe that's what happens when people damage you before you get a chance to ever harm anyone. Time stands still and you get frozen in that state, no matter what shit goes wrong after.

I understand that she still cares about Peter, so even though I don't want to talk about him, I still reassure her. "He's accepted it and he said he kinda knew it all along. He's just worried about you, that's all, he'll be fine."

"I should have done this so much sooner, before people got so invested they got hurt, including me."

"Maybe you needed to hit rock bottom first."

"Yeah, probably."

We sit in silence for a while, until she finally stops crying and I wonder when would be the right time to get to bed.

It's as if she can read my mind, when she suddenly says, "Jacob?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think we can ever be friends again? I mean, I know you can't right now, but in the future? If I promise to never ever lie to you again."

"I don't know, Bella. Nobody has ever lied to me like that before. I'm not sure how long this will take."

And yet. And yet I want to say yes with all my heart.

I want to hold her, I want to tell her I'll drive her to therapy, I'll be there for her, I'll support her all the way.

But now is a time to think about me for a change.

Because if I did support her, and if she drops out and starts having clients again, I'll be more broken than ever before. I need to be stronger first.

In a soft whisper she says, "I miss you terribly."

"Yeah," I whisper back. "I miss you too. A lot. Doesn't change anything. Sorry."

"I know," she speaks. Then she places her warm hand on my arm, and says "thank you," before getting up and walking to her room.

Instead of falling asleep as soon as I hit the mattress, I escape into my dream world, in which her warm hand moves up my arm towards my cheek and pulls me closer for a kiss.

Damn her for being so unfair, for confessing her love right when I was feeling weak and vulnerable.

For making me hate and love her more than ever at the same time.

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><p><strong>AN: Jacob is trying to figure things out but he just can't imagine the whole picture. Either way, they are both healing, just not doing it together. What are your thoughts? <strong>


	14. Chapter 14 Embrace

**Chapter 14: Embrace**

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><p>When I get home from therapy, I still need some time to process the stuff going on in my head.<p>

I'm already calmer than I was when I stepped, or rather rushed, out that door. During the long walk, some of my rage, that I unfortunately directed at my therapist, is subsided, but I still feel very upset.

How can he talk about forgiveness, like a priest, when he hasn't got a clue what it's like to be raped by your brother and father for years? I forgave them when I was a kid, just because I didn't know any better. But now… I'll hate them until the day I die, even though it's bad for my fucking karma.

He likes to know what I want to say to them. I wouldn't say a word, I'd punch them until my fists are raw.

That was my answer a few hours ago, but the truth is different of course. If I would run into them now, I'd be paralyzed with fear and I'd turn into little scared Bella again, who can only run away to her sweet neighbor.

I drop into the couch and put my ear plugs in. Listening to sad music I feel more hopeless than ever, but in a way, I feel cleaner as well. As the bitter, hot tears run down my cheeks, like angry rivers, I feel as if I've been holding them back for far too long.

In a way, it feels right to feel like crap. If that makes any sense at all.

By the time Jacob comes home, my face is dry, but I'm sure my eyes are still swollen.

He looks at me and hesitates, but doesn't ask. I know he could easily pretend. I know his instinct is telling him to be the supportive friend, he's a good guy, it's a strong instinct. It hurts him that he can't be here for me in these times, but I need to go through this alone anyway.

That little second of hesitation is enough for me. It shows me that he still cares. Even when he decides to stay silent and start cooking, he never really ignores me. He doesn't really hate me.

The food he's preparing smells delicious, but I know I can't eat after therapy. If I would, I'd throw up anyway.

I listen to the sounds of him eating and then cleaning up. Usually, by this time, I've already gone back to my room, so he can have the living room to himself, but now I really don't feel like being between those walls. In a way, his sounds comfort me.

He's probably waiting for me to leave though, as he's taking a long time in cleaning everything up. Eventually, he steps out of the kitchen and gets in the couch, a little uncomfortable.

"Do you mind?" he asks, when he takes the remote, pointing it at the TV.

I shake my head and he switches it on. Usually, on Friday, we used to watch any kind of romantic movie, but now he settles on a sports channel.

I gather my courage to try and open a conversation, making sure to watch his reaction and figure out if he'd rather I disappear.

"How do you feel about the game tomorrow?"

He looks sideways, a little surprised, and then replies, "I'm not sure. Our team is confident, but the little ones shouldn't be underestimated. We're ready though. Will you come and see?"

"I wanted to yes, if you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?" he smiles, and I don't really have an answer for that.

He adds, "do you need a lift?"

It's sweet for him to offer to come back for me, since I know he usually doesn't come home the evening before a game.

I shake my head, "I enjoy the walks."

"It'll be raining," he tries again, with his familiar worried face. In a way, I enjoy seeing that expression. I never liked his worry, knowing that I didn't deserve it, but now I take any sign of care and drink from it greedily.

"Doesn't matter," I shrug, giving him a small smile.

To my surprise, he smiles back. "Always the tough one," he says.

"Standing from here, you wouldn't say so," I mutter and his smile vanishes.

I feel suddenly vulnerable and pull my knees up under my chin.

His kind eyes rest on me, they make me feel warm, and then he asks "how is therapy going?"

My first impulse is to tell him I'm doing fine, but then I remember I promised him to never lie again.

"It's still horrible. I don't feel any progress and my therapist is full of karma crap."

He thinks for a few seconds and then says, "maybe it needs to get worse before it gets better?"

I laugh and say, "that's what he says."

"Do you, um, do you want to tell me what's so horrible about it?"

I lean back and relax a little. Somehow his friendly gaze makes me feel less fragile. He always has that effect on me.

"He wants me to write a letter," I say, "not to put in the actual mail, just to pretend. I don't really see the point."

"A letter to who?" Jacob asks and I realize he doesn't really know what the therapy is all about.

When I don't answer immediately, he says, "never mind, that's personal."

Before his eyes are back on the TV, I quickly place my hand on his arm and say, "to dad and Edward. I promised you I'd be honest from now on, no more lies, I swear, but some things are still difficult to talk about."

"I understand," he mumbles, his eyes trained on his arm where my hand rests. I wonder if I should pull back, but if he stays motionless, then so will I.

"I guess I do see the point in writing that letter," I explain, "as a way to clear my own mind and get some stuff off my chest, but… I'm afraid it will be too hard."

"Maybe an attempt will be enough?" Jacob suggests.

"Yeah, he said that, too. During therapy we'll work on completing the letter, it doesn't have to be the end version yet, just a first try, but still. I'm so scared to even imagine a conversation. What if I get lost? Or like, trapped..."

I don't even know if my words are making any sense, how can someone be so terrified of their own past? But that's how it feels.

"I could help," he says, "I mean, not read it, but I could stay near you, when you write it. To make sure you find your way back."

My eyes tear up, not just because he suggests to be here for me, I know that's the urge he's been feeling all along, but also because he really does get me. He knows my fears even if I never shared any of it.

And instead of refusing, the way I always do, I whisper, "that would be nice, thank you."

A lone tear escapes my eye and he stares at it with a pained expression.

In an impulse, I take his hand and move his fingertips towards my cheek. I know he really wants to wipe it away.

Gently, he brushes the tear from my skin, but his pained look stays.

"It's okay," I say, "it's okay to still care. I'm a safe friend now, I'll never lie to you again."

Softly he replies, "that doesn't make you safe, Bella."

Gradually I understand what he means.

His heart is still on the line, he still loves me, too.

And I can't help myself.

While holding his hand in mine, I lean in closer to him and place my lips on his. He might push me away, he probably should, but he doesn't.

He takes a long shuddering breath, and then he's above me, gently pushing me down against the couch, pressing his warm lips on mine.

I feel the weight of his body on top of me and I could cry in relief. My arms wrap around his shoulders and cling to him desperately. He can't run off now, he can't change his mind. I saw it in his eyes, it's still there.

Slowly the kiss deepens and I feel his tongue slide against my lips. I hungrily open my mouth to let him in.

But instead of doing that, he pulls back and takes another long breath. "Don't go," he whispers, "stay."

I wasn't planning on going, and I was thinking the same thing about him, but I understand his anxiety. I've done nothing but run away from him ever since I moved here.

When I open my eyes, I see tears in his. There's so much love there, but fear as well. Because I already broke him and I could do it again. Even worse this time.

I don't answer, but he knows that I'm not going anywhere. He can tell by the way I'm pulling him closer to me, holding him right here, on top of me. I've never felt this before, not without being terrified. It's so much different than I ever imagined. He has complete power over me and I love it.

Maybe because I know he feels the same way. He's just as scared and relieved and confused as I am.

Softly, he moves closer again and his lips are on mine. This time he doesn't falter and his warm tongue brushes against my lower lip, asking permission to enter. My mouth opens and in return, my tongue finds it's way around his.

My belly is making a thousand back flips and I feel like catching my breath, but I don't let go. This is my Jacob, the only one I've ever loved, even when I didn't have a clue.

"Oh Bella," he breathes into my mouth. "You have no idea…"

I'm not sure what he means, but at the same time, I do have an idea.

When he leans back again, we both gasp for air, and his eyes stay on mine, searching for something.

"This doesn't mean…" he whispers, but he doesn't finish the sentence. "Oh, Bella, you shouldn't have told me right then."

I'm not sure what he's referring too, but since I'm no longer lying, I can honestly reply, "it's the truth."

He rests his head in the crook of my neck and breathes against my skin, "I miss you so much."

"Me too," I reply into his hair, "every second of every day. I'm so sorry. So sorry, Jacob."

"I know," he whispers back, "me too. For putting you on that pedestal and making you feel like you had to be perfect, just because I wanted to believe that."

I push him back a little, to look him in the eyes, and say firmly, "it's not your fault. This was all me."

"That part of you is not your fault either," he says and then kisses me again, desperately, as if he was suddenly scared our moment was over.

His hands move from my neck to my arms, caressing my skin, and our tongues are trapped in a delicious embrace.

My fingers dig into his back and his neck, pulling him close whenever he tries to lift his weight off my smaller body. He doesn't feel heavy to me. He feels like the safe blanket I've been craving for ages. Covering me.

"Let me sleep with you," he whispers, pleads almost, and then corrects, "let me sleep _near_ you. Don't… push me away, not tonight, please."

He didn't need to beg. No way I was letting him go any time soon.

I nod and he kisses me hard again, I can almost feel the relief in his body.

I lose myself in this sensation, in the emotions running through me and in the sensual feeling if his lips and his tongue. Jacob fills me with warmth, he _is_ warmth, and so am I, from head to toe.

His arousal is clear, but neither of us makes a move to take this any further tonight. We are both still too wounded.

When we catch our breath again, I whisper, "I'll never push you away you again. Now that I've finally opened up, I belong to you. I need you, Jacob."

He lifts his head from my shoulder to look at me, new tears swimming in his eyes at hearing my words.

"I've been longing to hear that ever since we were kids. You never needed anyone."

"I do now. I'm so scared."

All of the sudden, out of nowhere, I start to sob and pull him closer again. His weight soothes my shaking form and his arms try to wrap themselves in between me and the couch.

"It's okay, Bella, you can need me, I'm right here."

When the crying, for the millionth time this month, eventually stops, he pulls back again, and gently dries my cheeks with his shirt.

I feel ashamed and mutter, "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," he tells me reassuringly, "I'm scared too. Please promise me once more you'll never lie to me again."

"I promise. I'll try my hardest to be that Bella you always saw in me."

Jacob shakes his head. "No, you don't have to do that. I'll forgive you if you make mistakes and I'll take you as you are right now. Damage included. Just… don't lie. I won't forgive that anymore."

"I know," I nod. "I promise."

After another soft kiss, he gently lifts me up from the couch and carries me to my bed, just like he did many times before. Without changing our clothes, we get under the covers and lie down.

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, how he will feel, how I will feel, but I don't want to talk anymore either. I've done enough talking for today.

And for the first time in months, I fall into a long and dreamless sleep, sheltered in his embrace.

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><p><strong>AN: To the guest who told me Jacob is a coward, please stop reading this instant. Unlike my other readers and reviewers, you don't get Jacob or this story AT ALL. If you have ever loved a damaged person, you'd know that Jacob would be stupid if he wasn't scared. To all my other readers who still care about Jacob and Bella, I bet you are happy about this development ;) What do you think tomorrow will bring? Will this last? Should they talk about the lies or is it enough to leave it at this?<strong>


	15. Chapter 15 At Last

**AN: Dear guest, I'll answer all your questions if you are brave enough to review from an account so I can reply ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: At last<strong>

When I wake up, I notice that she's staring at me.

Her expression is unreadable and I hope with all my heart it's not regret. I could handle her mood swings as long as I was sure about her, and about my feelings.

But now I'm not. There's this voice that screams inside me "get out while you still can, she'll be the end of you." I've always been able to avoid that, but if she does as much as pull back just a little, I'll be gone.

Ever so slowly, she leans in closer to me, as if she's going to kiss me again. I smile at her, but at the last second, she changes her mind and nuzzles my neck instead, hiding her face from me.

I understand that she's scared as well, I don't mind that. My arms wrap around her fragile form and pull her closer to me. Not too much, I don't want to scare her away with my morning wood. But she clearly doesn't mind and wraps herself around me completely, both arms and legs.

I smile and whisper in her hair "cutie."

She groans shyly and mutters "good morning."

"What made you change your mind about kissing me? Was it my breath?" I ask jokingly.

She leans back to rest her head on my arm and look at me, still blushing.

"I just didn't want to… assume anything. That we're a couple or something. I mean, I know I'm not forgiven just because of last night."

"I don't know," I reply, "I'm not really sure what it feels like to actually forgive. I'm no longer mad at you, so maybe that's the same?"

She smiles sweetly, "that's a start. But I don't expect you to trust me ever again."

"Maybe we can learn to trust together. Because you never trusted me before either."

Her face falls a bit with these words and I realize I sound accusing. I don't mean to point fingers, not now.

"I do trust you," she whispers.

"In a way," I try to explain, "but you never _really_ trusted me with the truth."

She replies, "I never trusted _me_ with the truth. These are things I never told anyone, things I do but don't even like to admit to myself. There's only so much self-hate I can take. I can honestly swear that I trust you more than I trust myself."

I smile. This is the most open she's ever been with me, and I like it. I knew I would. Even with the lies she's told me, there's nothing evil about her.

That doesn't mean she's harmless, but she'd never intentionally hurt me. I know that much.

I lean closer to her and whisper, "if you like, you can assume that we're together."

Then my lips kiss her sweet smile and again, we lose ourselves in a deep and intense kiss.

I wouldn't say it's sexual, more desperate and emotional. But I still get very much aroused by her body being so close to mine, her tongue gently stroking mine and her fingertips digging into my back, pulling me closer.

I'd love to make her mine completely, to bury myself inside her and never let go.

But that would be too soon. When I allow those sexy thoughts, immediately my mind brings up images of her with Peter and I pull back again.

Maybe that's a sign of her not being completely forgiven.

"What's wrong?" she whispers, while brushing my hair away from my forehead in a gentle movement.

I hesitate but then decide to open up as well.

"Have you really stopped… that other stuff?"

"Yeah," she nods, clearly ashamed.

"And do you, like, sometimes miss it?"

She thinks about this question and I already regret asking it.

"Not the act on itself," she explains, "I never enjoyed any of that. Not once."

"But?" I ask.

"I know it's a bad habit, but I've been doing it for so long. I guess it somehow gave me comfort. Easy attention. Easy money. I think maybe I do miss that."

"I haven't been a good friend lately," I say, knowing that I'm part of the reason why she didn't get any attention.

She shakes her head, "don't say that. The fact that you could stand me, that you allowed me to live here still, that you never looked at me with disgust or hate, that makes you the best friend ever."

I smile even though I didn't do enough.

"I should have paid you more attention before. I should have seen things. You tried to tell me so many times, that you weren't as innocent as I thought you were, but I just denied it all. Because I thought you were bringing yourself down for no reason and I couldn't accept that. Maybe if I had listened…"

"Don't do that Jacob, you were the perfect friend. I just wasn't ready to talk about stuff."

"And you are now?" I ask.

"Slowly," she nods, looking up at me with her big eyes.

"I think I need to know about those clients," I start hesitantly. "I probably don't want to know, but I still need to. I keep picturing things."

"You can ask me anything," she says, "and I'll try to answer the best I can."

"Like, um, how many clients? Probably too much to count?"

I try to hide the fact that this whole thing is making me very insecure, even though I have some experience with girls as well.

She hides her face against my neck again. "I wouldn't say that much, it's not like I've been doing that every day of the week. But over the course of the years, in total, I can't put a number on that."

"How many regulars? How many like Peter?"

"Most don't return that much. Because I have my boundaries. In the beginning, when I was younger, clients were more patient with me. I guess they liked my youth and they saw the boundaries as a sign of innocence. I had more regulars then, luckily for me, because they helped me survive the worst years away from home."

"And now?"

"Just Peter. All the others returned once or twice and that's it."

"What do you mean by boundaries?"

"I, um, I don't give them everything they want."

"You mean you don't go all the way?" That's another thing I wanted to know. I already figured out that she never kissed with clients, since she told me I was the only one. But that doesn't mean she's a virgin.

"No, never," she shakes her head. "They are not allowed to touch me. Ever."

I think about Jared and I know guys won't try to break that rule twice.

"And Peter?" I ask softly.

She shakes her head against my neck. That somehow fills me with relief.

"Never?" I add.

"No. I swear. I guess he thought that maybe in the future… I don't know. He was kind and patient, never pushed me to do anything and he took care of me, like paying me lots and giving me that job. I think he really cared."

She speaks with sadness in her voice and I can't help feeling that pang of jealousy.

When I stay quiet too long, she continues, "I never felt anything for him though."

"So you didn't… enjoy doing that stuff with him?"

"No. I felt good about myself, to be able to give something back to him. But I can't say I liked it. Usually I just shut my mind off and go someplace else inside my head."

"It's a shame," I murmur, more to myself than to her. She looks up at me in confusion.

I explain, "it's a shame that you believed that sex was all you had to offer someone."

She stays silent for a long time and just when I believe she's fallen asleep again, she mumbles, "you have nothing to be jealous about. You were and still are the only one I've ever wanted near me."

I kiss her on the lips and I know she's right. I'm being silly if I let this get to me. I've been with lots of girls, and most of them I wanted near me at the time. I've even been in love before, where Bella hasn't.

But that's all in the past now. This moment it all feels so far away; I can't imagine ever loving anyone else, not in my past and not in my future. In a way, it's always been her.

Our kiss deepens and again my body reacts instantly.

I'm a perfect gentleman though. I understand now that no man has ever touched her, not with her consent, so I'll be patient. It might take her a while to overcome her trust issues, but I've got time. This is already more than I ever hoped to get from her.

When my lower body starts to ache, I lean back and make a move to get up. She groans in protest and tries to pull me against her.

"Let's have breakfast," I try.

"I'm not hungry," she objects.

"Okay," I smile, "let me be a little more clear. I need a shower. A cold one."

"Oh," she says, and her face falls. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I chuckle, while placing a soft kiss on her nose.

As I get into the shower, I decide to use my arousal to get a release, so instead of a cold shower, I turn on the warm water. I'm still hard and my whole skin feels tingly after kissing her for so long.

When the pouring water runs over my body, and my mind recalls the feeling of her underneath me, I become even harder.

I've been holding back for too long, so I don't tease myself any longer. As soon as my hand slides over my wet cock, I feel my tip swell and it only takes a few strokes before I climax.

The waves flow through me, all the way to my fingertips, and I feel like a new born man when I enter the kitchen and kiss her goodbye for the day.

* * *

><p>Three hours later I'm having lunch with Paul.<p>

"So?" he asks, while chewing down his steak.

"What?" I ask, as innocent as possible.

"Are you gonna tell me what you're grinning about all day, or what?"

"Can't I hide anything around here?" I complain, smiling anyway.

"It's Bella," he states, and I nod with the widest grin.

"So you forgave her?"

I nod.

Paul doesn't know the entire story, since I do respect Bella's and Peter's privacy, but I made up a story about Bella and Peter having a history from before she ran into me. I explained that I was very upset she never told me, and the reason behind her secrecy is because she's ashamed to have had an affair with an older man.

"I told you it was only a matter of time," he says smugly, "so are you gonna tell me about it or are you gonna keep grinning like that?"

"There's nothing much to say. We didn't talk things through or solve things, or anything. It just happened. She was in the couch and usually she's gone by the time I finish dinner, but now she stayed there. And we talked a little, and then it just happened."

"Details man, what happened?"

I smile at his eagerness. I guess I'd be curious too if he had a new girlfriend, especially if he had been pining after her for so long.

"She kissed me," I explain. "And obviously I kissed her back."

"And then?" he rolls his eyes because I'm still not giving him the information he's waiting for.

"And then nothing."

"Come on, do you expect me to believe that? She's all you ever dream about and then she kisses you and you get up and say "see ya" ?"

"We held each other all night and then kissed some more this morning," I say, realizing how cheesy that sounds.

When he gives me a pointed look I add, "do you expect me to jump her bones after what she's been through?"

"Hell yeah", he laughs, but then says, "no, I guess you wouldn't. Always the gentleman."

"Shut up."

"Anyways, are you together now?"

"Yeah, I think so," I say, smiling widely again. "There's still some issues left, but we'll deal with that later. For now, things are simple and we're together."

Just thinking about her makes my stomach flip over and over.

In a dreamy voice I repeat, "Bella Swan is my girlfriend," as if I'm still trying to believe it.

Again Paul rolls his eyes, but not without smiling at me affectionately, and I don't care anyway how lame and cheesy I sound.

My girl, the girl who was meant for me ever since we met as kids, she's mine now.

At last.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Happy? :D <strong>


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